Seeking The Truth. Terri Reed

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СКАЧАТЬ an illness? Or some other horrible death? It was too much to bear thinking about. She went back to her earlier question. Munchkin was his daughter. “How old is she? Your daughter,” she clarified.

      “Six.”

      “That must be hard. Raising a child on your own. How old was she when her mother passed?”

      He shifted his stance, tucking his hands behind his back and widening his feet. “These are not questions I choose to answer in this venue.”

      Properly chastised, she folded her hands over her notebook in her lap. Yes, this wasn’t the place to ask about his personal life. Too many ears, too many eyes and too many unknowns. “Of course. Forgive me.”

      He remained silent, but his chin dipped slightly.

      Rachelle would take the slight movement as forgiveness from a guy like Officer Carter Jameson any day of the week.

      She glanced warily around the subway car. Several people were clearly nervous to have an officer and K-9 on board. It was a diverse group of individuals. Some were clearly families heading home from a day in the city. Others obviously were tourists, with cameras around their necks or holding subway maps in their hands. The rest of the passengers most likely were workers getting off from their city jobs, possibly heading home to one of the other boroughs where it wasn’t so expensive to live.

      She found herself looking for a man in a gray T-shirt and baseball hat with brown hair, of medium height. None fit that description in the car. Could the incident on the subway platform have been related to her investigation into Jordan Jameson’s murder? She suppressed a shiver of dread.

      A casual glance at Carter found him watching her with his inscrutable gaze. Unperturbed, she met his gaze fully and assessed him as he assessed her. This was a man who was used to intimidating others. With nothing more than a stony stare, a formidable stance and a big dog.

      She’d learned a lot in the last year since moving to New York City. Who to stay away from, who might cause trouble and that at any moment some celebrity, thinking they were incognito, could appear right next to her on a subway car, a street corner or in a restaurant. Carter wouldn’t be looking for celebrities. He’d be looking for the ones who were doing bad things.

      Like the guy who’d pushed her off the platform. She knew to keep her eyes open and sharp. The fact that she’d failed to notice the danger really irked her. She should never have allowed herself to get close enough to the edge to be pushed off. Normally, she stayed back until the train came to a stop. The only explanation had to be she’d been too focused on Carter.

      When the subway train pulled into the next station, Carter and Frosty moved to stand near the opening doors. The dog sat at Carter’s heels, his nose twitching at everyone who came in and out of the car.

      “How did you come up with the name Frosty?” she asked him.

      Carter glanced over his shoulder at her and arched an eyebrow.

      Raising her hands in acknowledgment that she’d received the message—not here, not now—she opened her notebook and added more questions to her growing list. She kept her mouth closed for the remainder of the ride but couldn’t help the impatient bounce of her foot as the subway car rolled along.

      She was glad when they finally switched trains to head out of Manhattan to the borough of Queens.

      As they exited the subway car, Rachelle was sure she heard several sighs of relief. She didn’t understand why the dog and officer made people so anxious. Carter and Frosty were there to serve and protect. Yes, the police in general seemed to have a bad rap in the media over the last few years. And she wasn’t naive—she knew there could be bad apples on any tree. But the NYC K-9 Command Unit had, until recently, a really good reputation.

      However, people were losing confidence that the K-9 Unit could solve their own chief’s murder, let alone any other crime. After five months with no answers, she had to admit she was frustrated, too. Which in part was what had prompted her to begin her own investigation.

      Along with the fact she wanted to advance her own career.

      But she’d rather think about the more altruistic reason she was diving headlong into Jordan Jameson’s life. His murderer needed to be caught and justice served. She and everyone else in New York would sleep better knowing a killer was off the streets.

      A shiver traipsed down her spine, reminding her of the terrifying event she suffered in the subway. She rubbed at the dirt streaked across her skirt. The skin underneath protested. In fact, her whole body ached from the impact of the fall now that the shock had eased.

      She really didn’t want to contemplate why someone had pushed her off the subway platform. Better to chalk it up to a onetime thing than to live in fear. She refused to believe the incident had anything to do with her inquiries into Jordan’s life.

      With Frosty on Carter’s left and Rachelle on his right, they walked away from the subway station and onto the sidewalk. This was her neighborhood. The residual fear and stress keeping her muscles bunched tight throughout her body began to melt away like butter on her grandma’s biscuits. They neared the mini market where a slim man in his sixties swept the front walkway.

      “Good afternoon, Mr. Lee,” she called with a wave.

      Mr. Lee looked up and smiled at her. “Ah, Miss Rachelle.” His gaze narrowed at Carter and Frosty. “Are you okay?”

      “Perfect,” she replied. “You?”

      “Well, thank you.” He hurried inside the store.

      They headed down the street with the late afternoon traffic buzzing by. She could feel Carter’s curious gaze. She glanced at him sideways. “My apartment is only a few blocks from here. I stop in occasionally for fruit or milk.” Her own curiosity prompted her to ask, “Do you two always receive that sort of reaction? I noticed on the subway that many people were nervous with you two aboard.”

      He shrugged. “It happens. Some people get antsy around authority figures. We’re trained to discern the difference between a nervous Nellie and a real crook.” He peered at her. “How did you end up in New York?”

      “Who doesn’t want to live in New York?” She wasn’t about to tell him she had applied and accepted the job at NYC Weekly as a way to escape her family. “My hope is to write something that will be picked up by a major news source and lead to a job with them. And this New York job seems the best possible place for that to happen.”

      “Why journalism?”

      She shrugged. “When it was time for college, my maternal grandmother suggested journalism.” She affected a prim voice. “‘Turn your rebelliousness to usefulness,’ was her advice. I took it.”

      “She sounds like a wise woman.”

      Sadness slipped over her. “She was. She passed on while I was in college.”

      “I’m sure she would have been proud of you,” he commented.

      At the corner, they waited for the light to turn green before crossing.

      “Thank you for saying so.” She didn’t add that her father had said the opposite when she’d made the decision to leave Georgia.

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