Pulling the Trigger. Julie Miller

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ shot little tendrils of distracting warmth into her resolve to stay focused solely on work while she was in Kenner City. “I’m only here for a couple of days. I doubt I’ll have time to get to know them.”

      “What about the people in Kenner City and Mesa Ridge you already…? Oh. Of course.” Elizabeth politely pulled away, no doubt sensing the protective personal barriers Joanna was pushing back into place. “I don’t suppose you have relatives in the area to keep you here.”

      “No.”

      “Will you be paying your respects to your mother and daddy?”

      “Hadn’t planned on it.”

      “Ethan Bia has been back in town for a few years now, after his stint in the army.”

      Ethan Bia? A shiver of recognition, of feelings long buried and often regretted, danced along Joanna’s spine.

      She flashed through the remembered sensations of a young man’s eager touch—the patient demands of his mouth on her untutored lips. She blotted out the image of anger she’d seen only once on his tanned, rugged face—the last memory she had of the gentle giant she’d once loved.

      “Ethan left Mesa Ridge?” That was almost more surprising than her reaction to the mere mention of his name.

      Elizabeth jumped on the question. “For six years. He’s a consultant with the crime lab now. Works search and rescue in the area. What about calling him—?”

      “I’m not here to socialize.”

      Joanna hardened herself against the name, as warring memories of strength and warmth, regret and shame, surged inside her.

      “Nüa-rü. The wind.” He stroked the long strand of hair off her face and tucked it behind her ear. “You’re just as elusive to me.”

       “Ethan…”

      She’d had to leave. Just as surely as Ethan had had to stay. He was tied to the earth and the mountains in a way she’d never been tied to anything or anyone.

       A smack across the face. A knife at her breast.

       “You owe me, bitch.”

      Joanna jerked inside her skin. No. No way could she have stayed.

      “Honey?” Elizabeth’s hand was on hers again.

      The locker-room doors swung open, thankfully putting an end to the discomfort of reacquainting herself with the past.

      “Madre de Dios,” muttered one Latino man, shaking the rain from his black hair. “It hasn’t let up once since noon. It’ll be raining buckets by sunset.”

      “You’re telling me.”

      Joanna pushed to her feet as a second man—same height, same black hair, same features save for the scar that bisected his chin—came up beside him. Both wore suits, although the first one was already pulling off his tie and stuffing it into his pocket as they approached.

      The second one pulled a cell phone from his belt beside the gun he wore. “I’d better give Aspen a call at school and tell her I’ll pick up Jack from the sitter’s. I don’t want her on those muddy reservation back roads any more than necessary. I predict a washout in our future. No pun intended.”

      “Nice one, hermano.” The first one elbowed his buddy in the arm. “Emma talked about seeing great waters and danger in her dreams last night.”

      “Maybe she should take up weather forecasting.”

      “Yeah, and maybe you should call your wife before she forgets what you look like. Again.”

      “Ouch.” Both men laughed as they moved their magnets on the sign-in board behind the reception counter to indicate that they were back in the office and on duty. “Point taken. I’ll leave the one-liners to you.”

      Joanna didn’t need Elizabeth mouthing the word “twins” to recognize the resemblance. She didn’t particularly need the nudge forward as Elizabeth insisted on introducing them, either. “Miguel? Dylan? I’d like you to meet the daughter of an old friend of mine, Joanna Kuch—” She caught the mistake. “Joanna Rhodes. She’ll be working with us for a few days.”

      Extending her hand in a professional greeting, Joanna completed the introductions herself. She’d done her homework. “Agent Dylan Acevedo. Supervisor Ortiz told me you’d transferred here because you were friends with the deceased, Agent Grainger.”

      “Julie and I went through the academy together—along with Tom Ryan and Ben Parrish. We’ve all been working the case.” Dylan—the one with the scar—shook her hand, nodding toward the badge at her waist. “You’re FBI?”

      “I’m with the D.C. office. Profiling and interrogation specialist. I’m here to interview Sherman Watts.”

      Dylan’s twin shook her hand next. “Good luck with that one. He’s a wily SOB. The man’s got nine lives when it comes to staying ahead of the law. I’m Miguel Acevedo.”

      Joanna recognized the name. “You’re a crime-scene investigator with the forensic lab.”

      “That’s right.” He unbuttoned the collar of his shirt and shucked his jacket, looking like a man who was anxious to get out of his wedding apparel and get back to work. “So you’re the big gun Martinez said the bureau was bringing in to crack this case for us.”

      You don’t have to make friends, she reminded herself. You just have to get the job done. Her promotion and the ability to walk away from here emotionally unscathed depended on it. “That’s my intention. The information in the case file that KCCU prepared for me was very thorough. I’m sure it will be invaluable to the success of my interview.”

      The locker-room door opened again at the end of the hall. She needn’t have worried about the laxness or scarcity of the staff. This wasn’t the reservation sheriff’s office of fifteen years ago. She was beginning to believe the paperwork she’d read. The KCCU was a diverse, dedicated staff of scientists and area law enforcement. The blond-haired man strolling toward them appeared to be no exception.

      He walked straight up to Joanna and the Acevedos and diffused the tension between them by leaning down to kiss Elizabeth’s cheek. “Lizzie, you left the reception before that dance you promised me. Broke my heart.”

      “Oh, Ben.” She swatted at his arm. “I’m a married woman.”

      “All the good ones are taken, hmm?”

      Elizabeth blushed at the flirtation from a much younger man.

      He grinned as he straightened to introduce himself. “Ben Parrish, FBI.”

      “Joanna Rhodes, the same.”

      She noted that his handsome smile didn’t quite reach his wary eyes. “Don’t let these guys give you any grief. I was the new kid here myself a few months back. Now I’ve grown on them.”

      “Like a fungus, Parrish,” Miguel teased. “I’d СКАЧАТЬ