Read Online Wounded Animals (Whistleblower Series Book 1) by Jim Heskett - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Jim Heskett
Ads: Link
keys, and I yanked them free.
I shoved the keys in my pocket as I started to race back down the trail. The inertia of energy carried me for the first ten minutes, never stopping, never thinking about anything more than getting back down to the car.
Turn after turn, trying to hop over icy patches, keeping my feet on rocks that would give better footing.
My ragged breathing caught up with me and I had to lean against a trail-side tree stump to catch my breath. Now I wished I’d kept that water bottle. Poison or not, I needed something to drink.
I looked back up the trail, but there was no one above me.
A minute went by, but I couldn’t get my heart rate under control. I was certain that my judo sensei would have been proud of the way I’d handled myself. But, on the other hand, I had beaten up and broken the bones of two men who were probably quite dangerous, so maybe it wasn’t the smartest thing, after all. Didn’t see that I’d had much choice; I reacted and events moved forward.
Despite the panting, I made myself press on. Took me another ten minutes to get back down to the car, and I jumped in, and stole someone’s vehicle for the first time in my life.
I had no answers, but plenty of new questions.
I raced back through Eldorado Springs and along I-70 to the police station in Denver, and when I got out, I debated whether I should go in and report all of this to Detective Shelton. The whole story seemed so unbelievable, where would I even begin?
Then a terrible thought occurred to me: what if, instead of them bugging my phone, Shelton had told these people that I was coming. That was just as likely as them listening in on my phone calls. Maybe that good comment back at my house was a reference to the fact that I didn’t say I knew the dead trainee. Maybe that was a test, to prove I could keep my mouth shut.
No way could I trust the detective. My best option would be to get home and regroup.
I hopped in my car and hit the highway. Turns out I missed the lunch rush traffic, so that was a small bonus amid all this chaos. Couldn’t believe these kinds of thoughts were even occurring to me at a time like this.
I pulled into my neighborhood as a light snow began to fall. I had to slow down going down the street, resisting the urge to floor it. Panic and confusion motivated me above all other forces.
Then when I could see my house, my jaw dropped. My wife’s car was gone.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
I stumbled out of the car and into the house.
“Grace!”
My lungs felt raw and used. I could barely breathe. Don’t know why I expected to find her inside, especially now that her car was gone. Maybe I was clinging to change as something that could contain some hope, but that was about as likely as getting the house key in the door on the first try after a drunken evening out. Hope had deserted me, or at least that’s what the evidence suggested.
In reply to my house-wide yelling, nothing but the gentle hum of the fridge came back. Silence, and then the padding of tiny cat feet down the stairs, and the vicious glare of a cat that I’d forgotten to feed that morning before I ran out to confront my wife’s boss for seemingly no good reason.
“Aw, shit, Kitty, I’m so sorry. It’s been a really long day and it just slipped my mind.”
My eyes misted as I opened the fridge and pulled out the aluminum foil-wrapped can of cat food. Went to the cupboard to get a bowl, then mixed a little water into the food and set it out for her. The mechanical movements calmed me a little, and I had prevented a round of tears, at least.
Then as I bent to put the cat food back in the fridge, I felt the injury on my back. A searing burn just above my tailbone, like a massive paper cut.
I lumbered upstairs into the bathroom to check it. Dead Paul’s burgundy blood had dried in splotches along the wall. They had cleaned most of it but left me some as a reminder that I had a part to play
I shoved the keys in my pocket as I started to race back down the trail. The inertia of energy carried me for the first ten minutes, never stopping, never thinking about anything more than getting back down to the car.
Turn after turn, trying to hop over icy patches, keeping my feet on rocks that would give better footing.
My ragged breathing caught up with me and I had to lean against a trail-side tree stump to catch my breath. Now I wished I’d kept that water bottle. Poison or not, I needed something to drink.
I looked back up the trail, but there was no one above me.
A minute went by, but I couldn’t get my heart rate under control. I was certain that my judo sensei would have been proud of the way I’d handled myself. But, on the other hand, I had beaten up and broken the bones of two men who were probably quite dangerous, so maybe it wasn’t the smartest thing, after all. Didn’t see that I’d had much choice; I reacted and events moved forward.
Despite the panting, I made myself press on. Took me another ten minutes to get back down to the car, and I jumped in, and stole someone’s vehicle for the first time in my life.
I had no answers, but plenty of new questions.
I raced back through Eldorado Springs and along I-70 to the police station in Denver, and when I got out, I debated whether I should go in and report all of this to Detective Shelton. The whole story seemed so unbelievable, where would I even begin?
Then a terrible thought occurred to me: what if, instead of them bugging my phone, Shelton had told these people that I was coming. That was just as likely as them listening in on my phone calls. Maybe that good comment back at my house was a reference to the fact that I didn’t say I knew the dead trainee. Maybe that was a test, to prove I could keep my mouth shut.
No way could I trust the detective. My best option would be to get home and regroup.
I hopped in my car and hit the highway. Turns out I missed the lunch rush traffic, so that was a small bonus amid all this chaos. Couldn’t believe these kinds of thoughts were even occurring to me at a time like this.
I pulled into my neighborhood as a light snow began to fall. I had to slow down going down the street, resisting the urge to floor it. Panic and confusion motivated me above all other forces.
Then when I could see my house, my jaw dropped. My wife’s car was gone.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
I stumbled out of the car and into the house.
“Grace!”
My lungs felt raw and used. I could barely breathe. Don’t know why I expected to find her inside, especially now that her car was gone. Maybe I was clinging to change as something that could contain some hope, but that was about as likely as getting the house key in the door on the first try after a drunken evening out. Hope had deserted me, or at least that’s what the evidence suggested.
In reply to my house-wide yelling, nothing but the gentle hum of the fridge came back. Silence, and then the padding of tiny cat feet down the stairs, and the vicious glare of a cat that I’d forgotten to feed that morning before I ran out to confront my wife’s boss for seemingly no good reason.
“Aw, shit, Kitty, I’m so sorry. It’s been a really long day and it just slipped my mind.”
My eyes misted as I opened the fridge and pulled out the aluminum foil-wrapped can of cat food. Went to the cupboard to get a bowl, then mixed a little water into the food and set it out for her. The mechanical movements calmed me a little, and I had prevented a round of tears, at least.
Then as I bent to put the cat food back in the fridge, I felt the injury on my back. A searing burn just above my tailbone, like a massive paper cut.
I lumbered upstairs into the bathroom to check it. Dead Paul’s burgundy blood had dried in splotches along the wall. They had cleaned most of it but left me some as a reminder that I had a part to play
Similar Books
