Read Online The Blue Edge of Midnight by Jonathon King - Free Book Online

Dust comes in a person’s wake. A man’s weight depresses something. The bacteria of his bad breath, the pheromones of his natural skin oils drift in the air. Something had changed here.
    I tilted my head back and stared at the louvered cupola at the very top of my arched ceiling. It was the Old Florida design that let hot air rise and escape and I imagined seeing altered air actually collecting up there. A shaft of light was now pouring through my western window. In its beam I could see floating dust particles. I followed their drift to the floor and there, on the pinewood slats, was a thinly visible footprint in the glow of sunlight.
    I looked foolishly around as if someone might be behind me and then lowered myself out of the chair and moved to the print on my hands and knees. There were no tread markings, no boot pattern. The print was flat like something a slipper or moccasin might make. I had come in barefoot from the shower. When I put my own naked foot next to the print, I guessed the size at a 9 or 10. Out of the patch of light no others were visible.
    I got up and started searching in the corner where the print was pointing and began going over every inch of the room, from floor to as high as I could reach or climb, in every corner, drawer, cupboard and container. Someone had been here and either taken something or left something behind.
    After forty-five minutes of searching I found it. On the back edge of the top bunk mattress, my intruder had made a razor cut. Probing inside I felt a hard plastic box the size of a large cell phone. When I pulled it out, I had a GPS unit in my hand.
    “Son of a bitch,” I said aloud, placing the unit on the table and sitting down to stare at it.
    Outside early night sounds were starting. I could hear the herons and egrets squawking as they settled into the trees to roost. The leopard and pig frogs were beginning their low grunting.
    The cops or the killer? I thought. Somebody planted it and I was being set up.
    By now the room was going dusky. I got up, lit the kerosene lamp and retrieved Billy’s cell phone from my gym bag. It didn’t matter who made the plant, a team with a warrant would have to be on its way. I couldn’t be here when they arrived. And neither could the GPS. I looked at the piece of incriminating technology, and then made a call. The other end was answered on the third ring.
    “Station twelve, Ranger Stanton speaking, may I help you?”
    The kid was still there. It took me a second to remember his first name.
    “Hey, Mike, this is Max Freeman out at the research shack.”
    “Yeah?” he said flatly, probably adjusting the chip on his shoulder.
    “Look, I need a favor, Mike.”
    “Yeah, well, I’m just packing up, Mr. Freeman. My shift is already done.”
    “Right,” I said, trying to put an unrushed tone to my voice. “But I was thinking that since I wasn’t planning on using my truck for a couple of days you might like to use it for the weekend, you know, since its just sitting there.”
    “Yeah?”
    I had definitely lifted the kid’s spirits and used the right bait.
    “Sure. But I need a favor. Cleve said you’re pretty good with cars and I thought you might help me out with that scratch on the driver’s side.”
    “Man, I seen that, Mr. Freeman. That’s a sin, man. Hey, I got a buddy who can compound that right out. You know, I can take care of that easy,” he said with true enthusiasm.
    My hook was set.
    “Great. Why don’t you take it home with you now. Cleve has a key in his desk drawer. It’s the one with the yellow Pep Boys tag on it.”
    Right there under his nose all the time. But the kid’s joy seemed unaffected.
    “OK. Got it, Mr. Freeman. When do you need it back?”
    “How about Monday or Tuesday?”
    “I got a Tuesday morning shift,” he answered.
    “Sounds good.”
    The kid thanked me again and I punched the off button and knew that, one, the law hadn’t gotten to the boat ramp yet. And two, the kid would be