Read Online The Broken (The Apostles) by Shelley Coriell - Free Book Online Page B

don’t,” Maeve said.
    Smokey snorted. “Didn’t figure a broad like you would.”
    “Perhaps you’d like to put your things away,” Maeve went on, unruffled. “Let me take your bag.”
    “Ain’t no invalid. I can carry it myself.”
    “Well then let me show you to your—”
    “Can’t see a damn thing, lady. Why the hell would you show me anything?”
    Hayden watched as Katrina’s creamy white skin drained of all color but for the splash of freckles across her nose. She opened her mouth, but Hayden shook his head.
    Next to him, Maeve’s polite smile didn’t waver. “I’m fully aware of your disability, Mr. Bernard.”
    “I’m blind, lady. Call it what it is.”
    Maeve set her coffee cup on its saucer with a louder-than-expected clank. “Okay, blind man, grab your damn bag and follow me.”
    Smokey’s upper body rocked in a small jolt, and something that sounded suspiciously like a laugh tripped over his lips. “You always this bitchy?”
    “Only when the people around me are acting like jackasses.”
    *  *  *
    Thursday, June 11, 10:10 a.m.
Colorado Springs, Colorado
    Lottie felt the gears moving notch by notch, and today she and her navy stilettos with yellow polka dots were behind the wheels of justice pushing hard. Last night the wheels got a bit of grease from that kid who claimed to see a woman in a pink dress standing on Thomas’s front porch the night she died, and this morning justice got another little nudge when Lottie had an unexpected visit from one of Shayna Thomas’s coworkers.
    “Tell me everything you know about the slug,” Lottie told the blond-haired woman with the plastic boobs.
    The woman sitting in front of her was Sue Mathis, a weathergirl from the television news station where Shayna Thomas had worked. Lottie couldn’t help but think the buxom journalist had a bit of plastic in her brain, too. Thomas had been killed more than forty-eight hours ago, and the question had been asked over and over, “Did Shayna Thomas ever complain about anyone stalking her?”
    Silicon Sue finally had a lightbulb moment. “You know, I didn’t think it was important at first, because Shayna didn’t make a big deal out of it.”
    Lottie took a deep breath. “Ms. Mathis, at this point, everything is important. Please tell me what you know about the stalker.”
    “I don’t think I ever heard Shayna call him a stalker. She mentioned that she kept bumping into him, at the grocery store, the bank, clubs. Kind of creeped her out.”
    “Did she know him?”
    “She didn’t say. She just said he’d been popping up more and more.”
    “Did she ever tell you anything about him? What he looked like? What kind of car he drove? How he was dressed?”
    “Nothing. She mentioned him two weeks ago while we were at a coworker’s retirement party. It was a pretty light conversation, cocktail chatter. She made a joke about the whole thing.”
    Lottie continued to drill Sue Mathis until Detective Traynor poked his head into her office. “Hey, Sarge, time for the press conference. Chief wants you front and center.”
    *  *  *
    Thursday, June 11, 10:15 a.m.
Tucson, Arizona
    “Can I get you more coffee, Kate?” Maeve asked when she returned to the sunroom.
    Kate sunk deeper into her chair. “No, thank you. I’m fine.” It was odd, being in this strange, sun-filled house, trying to chat with a stranger. As a broadcast journalist, she had been able to talk to strangers, hold her own against politicians and powerbrokers, and make small talk to put sources at ease, but the social muscles that had served her well in broadcasting had atrophied in the past three years. Now she felt like her brain and mouth suffered a serious disconnect.
    Kate pulled a lock of hair over the right side of her face. “Hayden, uh, went to check on the drip system in the garden. He noticed that a few plants looked dead.”
    “He’s a good boy.” Maeve poured herself a glass of orange juice from the frosted carafe.