Read Online Unleashed (A Sydney Rye Novel, # 1) by Emily Kimelman - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Emily Kimelman
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me.
My ears fought through the buzzing sound of my fear to hear. My brain told me to move toward the door—it screamed for me to walk out the door. But my ears didn’t want the distraction. I held my breath and listened to the beating of my heart, Oscar’s purr, and the undeniable sound of a footfall on the carpet behind me.
“Hello, Ms. Humbolt.” I spun around. Detective Mulberry was standing in the hallway behind me, looking amused. He was shorter than I remembered, only about two inches taller than I, but he was stocky.
“What are you doing here?” I felt relieved, but adrenaline was still pumping through me. He pulled off a pair of white rubber gloves, the latex snapping in the air.
“Just looking into a lead.”
“Have you gotten ahold of Charlene yet?”
“No, I have not.” He shook his head looking at the inside-out gloves in his hands.
“Do you have a warrant to be here?”
His green eyes flashed yellow with anger. “Your little friend could be dead, and you want to know about a warrant.” He moved down the hallway at me. I stood my ground, fighting against a powerful urge to flee. He stopped six inches from my face. “Do you understand the gravity of the situation here?” Intense green eyes was all I could think.
“What?” I said straining to keep eye contact.
Mulberry shook his head then brushed past me to the front door. “Try not to touch anything in here. This could be an official crime scene before too long.” He left, using his sleeve to protect the doorknob from his fingerprints.
Oscar, unfazed by the stranger, curled his body around my left leg and purred. Could Charlene really be dead? Why was he convinced that I was involved in this mess? I found myself wandering through Charlene’s place. The bedroom was a mess, but there was no sign that a person had been murdered there. I opened her closet. It was jammed full of clothing. But so was mine at home. For all I knew, she had packed half her wardrobe and left with it. Or she had been forced out of her apartment with nothing. Could Detective Mulberry know any differently?
I walked into her bathroom and opened the medicine cabinet. Day face cream, night face cream, makeup remover, body lotion, hand cream all sat neatly next to each other. But there was no toothbrush, so she must have packed to leave. Or maybe she needed a new toothbrush and had thrown the old one away. I looked in the trash. It was empty. So maybe she had taken the trash out when she left. Then she definitely would have been leaving of her own free will. Kidnappers do not allow you to pack a toothbrush and take out the trash—unless they don’t want it to look like you’ve been kidnapped. I noticed the clock on Charlene’s bedroom wall. I was late.
Gossip is a Powerful Drug
I picked up Snowball and headed over to the dog run. The regular crowd was there, milling around the pen. I nodded to them and sat on a bench in the far corner facing the river. Why would Detective Mulberry insinuate that Charlene was dead? How was she connected to this case? What did he know that I didn’t? I found myself wanting to go back to her apartment. What was he looking for? Or what had he found?
I was surprised to see the Detective striding purposefully along the esplanade talking on his cell phone. His thick arms pushed against his summer-weight suit jacket with each step. His brow was furrowed and his face red. The sun caught glints of gray in his short, dark hair. I watched him walk into the park toward Gracie Mansion and out of my sight.
“Hi.”
I looked up and saw Marcia standing over me. “Hi.”
“You know him?”
“Who?”
“I know him, you know. I know everyone in this neighborhood.”
“You do?”
“Of course. I’ve been walking this neighborhood for 25 years. I know everything that happens around here.”
“Really?”
The other dog-walkers started to move toward us.
“This is Fiona,” she gestured to the mousey-haired women who had
My ears fought through the buzzing sound of my fear to hear. My brain told me to move toward the door—it screamed for me to walk out the door. But my ears didn’t want the distraction. I held my breath and listened to the beating of my heart, Oscar’s purr, and the undeniable sound of a footfall on the carpet behind me.
“Hello, Ms. Humbolt.” I spun around. Detective Mulberry was standing in the hallway behind me, looking amused. He was shorter than I remembered, only about two inches taller than I, but he was stocky.
“What are you doing here?” I felt relieved, but adrenaline was still pumping through me. He pulled off a pair of white rubber gloves, the latex snapping in the air.
“Just looking into a lead.”
“Have you gotten ahold of Charlene yet?”
“No, I have not.” He shook his head looking at the inside-out gloves in his hands.
“Do you have a warrant to be here?”
His green eyes flashed yellow with anger. “Your little friend could be dead, and you want to know about a warrant.” He moved down the hallway at me. I stood my ground, fighting against a powerful urge to flee. He stopped six inches from my face. “Do you understand the gravity of the situation here?” Intense green eyes was all I could think.
“What?” I said straining to keep eye contact.
Mulberry shook his head then brushed past me to the front door. “Try not to touch anything in here. This could be an official crime scene before too long.” He left, using his sleeve to protect the doorknob from his fingerprints.
Oscar, unfazed by the stranger, curled his body around my left leg and purred. Could Charlene really be dead? Why was he convinced that I was involved in this mess? I found myself wandering through Charlene’s place. The bedroom was a mess, but there was no sign that a person had been murdered there. I opened her closet. It was jammed full of clothing. But so was mine at home. For all I knew, she had packed half her wardrobe and left with it. Or she had been forced out of her apartment with nothing. Could Detective Mulberry know any differently?
I walked into her bathroom and opened the medicine cabinet. Day face cream, night face cream, makeup remover, body lotion, hand cream all sat neatly next to each other. But there was no toothbrush, so she must have packed to leave. Or maybe she needed a new toothbrush and had thrown the old one away. I looked in the trash. It was empty. So maybe she had taken the trash out when she left. Then she definitely would have been leaving of her own free will. Kidnappers do not allow you to pack a toothbrush and take out the trash—unless they don’t want it to look like you’ve been kidnapped. I noticed the clock on Charlene’s bedroom wall. I was late.
Gossip is a Powerful Drug
I picked up Snowball and headed over to the dog run. The regular crowd was there, milling around the pen. I nodded to them and sat on a bench in the far corner facing the river. Why would Detective Mulberry insinuate that Charlene was dead? How was she connected to this case? What did he know that I didn’t? I found myself wanting to go back to her apartment. What was he looking for? Or what had he found?
I was surprised to see the Detective striding purposefully along the esplanade talking on his cell phone. His thick arms pushed against his summer-weight suit jacket with each step. His brow was furrowed and his face red. The sun caught glints of gray in his short, dark hair. I watched him walk into the park toward Gracie Mansion and out of my sight.
“Hi.”
I looked up and saw Marcia standing over me. “Hi.”
“You know him?”
“Who?”
“I know him, you know. I know everyone in this neighborhood.”
“You do?”
“Of course. I’ve been walking this neighborhood for 25 years. I know everything that happens around here.”
“Really?”
The other dog-walkers started to move toward us.
“This is Fiona,” she gestured to the mousey-haired women who had
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