Read Online Three Can Keep a Secret by Archer Mayor - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Archer Mayor
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everyone's amazement — had battled back to requalify as a fully certified police officer. He'd done as well over time combating alcoholism, Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, depression, a broken marriage, and die social isolation caused by a complete lack of diplomacy.
He closed the hand into a fist, acknowledging none of those victories. What he believed instead was that someday he'd wear out his welcome with the very family he'd traveled so far and worked so hard to create.
As if activated by his thoughts, the front door of the house opened and Sammie stepped out with Emma in her arms. Smiling a little sadly, she crossed the lawn as Willy rolled down his window, and handed the little girl in to him, murmuring, "Here you go, sweetie. I think Daddy needs a hug."
Willy looked into his partner's eyes as he took the child to his chest and cradled her there, his earlier concerns struggling against the warmth and sincerity he saw in Sam's face.
"How did you know?" he asked, kissing his daughter's feather-fine hair.
"We watch each other's back," she answered simply, and opened his door. "Come on in."
Willy swung out with surprising grace, given his handicap and his bundle, closed the car door with a foot, and fell in behind Sam on the way to the house.
"Hear from the boss yet?" he asked as the baby snuggled into his neck.
"Yup. He and Les spent hours making like moles and came up with a single footprint. They're thinking Barber made it out alive, if minus one shoe."
Willy took that at face value, knowing the rest would come later and in more detail. "What about her? Barber?" he asked next, referring to the assignment they'd been left by Joe. "You find out anything?"
Sam held open the front door to let him by, stroking his shoulder as he passed. "Not much yet. I wanted to clear off some other stuff on my desk first. I found out she worked for the state about forty years ago, and that she was the same Carolyn Barber Joe was talking about — the Governor-for-a-Day. He was also right about that being a one-shot wonder, never repeated. My gut tells me I'll get more from talking with people than digging through files. Right now, she just looks like she was a clerk or a secretary or something almost invisible. How 'bout you?"
Willy had taken on what he was calling the "box of rocks" from the cemetery near Newfane. He turned into the living room and carefully slid into the rocking chair by the window, seeing that Emma had nodded off.
"Herb Rozanski," he said in a soothing voice as Sam sat on the arm of the nearby sofa. "Only son of Bud and Dreama Rozanski. Brother of Eileen Rozanski Ranslow. Died twenty-seven years ago at the age of eighteen of an industrial accident at the family's logging and lumber operation. The accident was witnessed by the father, the body checked out by the authorities, and all the paperwork signed, sealed, and delivered."
Sammie smiled at the domestic scene and the tone of Willy's voice. "They must've really loved those rocks," she said.
Willy laughed gently. "Yeah. Well, you got that right. Guess I'll be doing a little up-close-and-personal interviewing, too."
Chapter Six
Lester Spinney settled into the corner of one of the Waterbury fire department's empty back offices and extracted his smartphone. Joe and he had ended up here to conclude the HazMat aspect of their day — returning the equipment and filing a report with the police chief about the state of the tunnels. The police department had been evacuated, forcing the chief to catch his meetings wherever he could for the time being, including in his cruiser.
None of which was Lester's concern. He was more than content to leave that conversation to his boss, and to instead reach out quickly for home. Lester's was the unit's lightest heart — a family man, a Springfield resident, born and bred, married to the same woman he'd first met in community college. Stayovers like the one he'd just spent at Allard's house were not his idea of a good
He closed the hand into a fist, acknowledging none of those victories. What he believed instead was that someday he'd wear out his welcome with the very family he'd traveled so far and worked so hard to create.
As if activated by his thoughts, the front door of the house opened and Sammie stepped out with Emma in her arms. Smiling a little sadly, she crossed the lawn as Willy rolled down his window, and handed the little girl in to him, murmuring, "Here you go, sweetie. I think Daddy needs a hug."
Willy looked into his partner's eyes as he took the child to his chest and cradled her there, his earlier concerns struggling against the warmth and sincerity he saw in Sam's face.
"How did you know?" he asked, kissing his daughter's feather-fine hair.
"We watch each other's back," she answered simply, and opened his door. "Come on in."
Willy swung out with surprising grace, given his handicap and his bundle, closed the car door with a foot, and fell in behind Sam on the way to the house.
"Hear from the boss yet?" he asked as the baby snuggled into his neck.
"Yup. He and Les spent hours making like moles and came up with a single footprint. They're thinking Barber made it out alive, if minus one shoe."
Willy took that at face value, knowing the rest would come later and in more detail. "What about her? Barber?" he asked next, referring to the assignment they'd been left by Joe. "You find out anything?"
Sam held open the front door to let him by, stroking his shoulder as he passed. "Not much yet. I wanted to clear off some other stuff on my desk first. I found out she worked for the state about forty years ago, and that she was the same Carolyn Barber Joe was talking about — the Governor-for-a-Day. He was also right about that being a one-shot wonder, never repeated. My gut tells me I'll get more from talking with people than digging through files. Right now, she just looks like she was a clerk or a secretary or something almost invisible. How 'bout you?"
Willy had taken on what he was calling the "box of rocks" from the cemetery near Newfane. He turned into the living room and carefully slid into the rocking chair by the window, seeing that Emma had nodded off.
"Herb Rozanski," he said in a soothing voice as Sam sat on the arm of the nearby sofa. "Only son of Bud and Dreama Rozanski. Brother of Eileen Rozanski Ranslow. Died twenty-seven years ago at the age of eighteen of an industrial accident at the family's logging and lumber operation. The accident was witnessed by the father, the body checked out by the authorities, and all the paperwork signed, sealed, and delivered."
Sammie smiled at the domestic scene and the tone of Willy's voice. "They must've really loved those rocks," she said.
Willy laughed gently. "Yeah. Well, you got that right. Guess I'll be doing a little up-close-and-personal interviewing, too."
Chapter Six
Lester Spinney settled into the corner of one of the Waterbury fire department's empty back offices and extracted his smartphone. Joe and he had ended up here to conclude the HazMat aspect of their day — returning the equipment and filing a report with the police chief about the state of the tunnels. The police department had been evacuated, forcing the chief to catch his meetings wherever he could for the time being, including in his cruiser.
None of which was Lester's concern. He was more than content to leave that conversation to his boss, and to instead reach out quickly for home. Lester's was the unit's lightest heart — a family man, a Springfield resident, born and bred, married to the same woman he'd first met in community college. Stayovers like the one he'd just spent at Allard's house were not his idea of a good
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