Appalachian Prey. Debbie Herbert

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СКАЧАТЬ “Probably cocaine residue,” he answered, brushing off the powder on his pant legs. “Afraid that’s going to be the extent of our find.”

      “Damn it. Not again.” J.D. stalked off to the adjacent kitchen. “Comb the area for leftover receipts, matches—anything left behind that might give us some clue who’s been here.”

      Sammy slammed his fist into his open palm. “What is this? Almost a half dozen raids now in the last year? They’re always a step ahead of us.” He huffed in frustration. “It’s like they know we’re coming.”

      Dread settled in Harlan’s gut as he assimilated the words. He didn’t want to believe it. They were a small team, and he’d grown up with most of them on the mountain. They were his friends, his colleagues, the people he trusted in dangerous situations.

      But the lure of easy money could mess with a person’s mind. He’d seen it before. A younger officer, Caleb, had fallen into that trap last year. First, it was turning a blind eye on minor offenses like illegal poker games. Then it progressed to fixing tickets for family and friends. Word spread until it reached a point where everyone believed they could offer a little money in return for a favor, muddying boundaries. Even if he’d wanted to stop taking bribes, Caleb had confessed that if he hadn’t taken them, someone would have squealed.

      Someone always squealed. You could count on that. It held true for inmates as well as the officers who were supposed to enforce the law.

      In the end, Caleb had been fired.

      Harlan tapped a finger against his lips. Caleb still dated Marla, one of the two dispatchers on the day shift. Did Marla pump him with information on their scheduled raids? Mentally, he made a note to check on that.

      J.D.’s cell phone rang, and he tossed it on the kitchen counter. “Answer that while I help Alvin search the back bedroom.”

      Harlan picked it up. “Sampson here,” he said, opening a drawer and searching its sparse contents as Marla breathlessly reported the latest news.

      Another shooting. Another victim dead.

      An icy finger of fear shimmied down his spine. Lilah—and their baby—might be in danger.

      * * *

      LILAH RUBBED HER swollen eyes, then riffled through the stack of bills that had collected in her mailbox during her absence. Absentmindedly going up the stairs, she almost ran smack into Luke McCoy at the bottom of the apartment stairwell.

      “Whoa there, missy,” he said with a laugh. “We missed you while you were gone.” She glanced up, and his easy grin melted away. “You all right?”

      Lilah gave him a watery smile. “I’m fine.”

      “You don’t look fine. Need a friend? We could talk over breakfast and coffee.”

      Sure, but she hated to encourage the guy. He’d been asking her out for weeks now, and if she went out with him, he’d make a big deal of it.

      “No, really. It was a rough night, but I’m okay.”

      “Missing your family, I bet,” he said knowingly. “Ms. Cranston told me you went home for your father’s funeral and stayed awhile to take care of the estate and stuff.”

      She made a mental note to be more circumspect with her elderly neighbor. “Right,” she agreed, clutching at the excuse.

      A brown-and-white cop cruiser whipped into a nearby parking spot, and she idly watched as a man got out. He locked the door and turned, rapidly making his way toward them. It couldn’t be. A familiar shock of brown hair, a strong jaw and piercing blue eyes... Yes, it was Harlan. What was he doing here? And dressed in his uniform, too?

      “I think breakfast is just what you need,” Luke continued, unaware of Harlan approaching from behind. “Let me take you out.”

      Her stomach revolted at the thought of food. “No, thank you.”

      “Ah, come on—”

      “The lady said no,” Harlan snapped.

      “What are you doing here?” she asked.

      His jaw tightened. “We have business to discuss.”

      Luke held up a hand and shuffled backward. “I’ll leave you two alone then.”

      Well, at least he might not pester her for dates anymore. So at least something good would come of this unexpected meeting with Harlan.

      “Is that him?” Harlan asked stiffly.

      “What? Oh, you mean... Never mind, it’s still none of your business.”

      “Seemed pretty spineless to me,” Harlan observed. “He cut out pretty quick when I came.”

      “You practically ordered him to leave,” she argued. “Besides—”

      “Yoo-hoo, officer!” They looked up the stairs, where Ms. Cranston stood in her housecoat. “That was quick. I just called five minutes ago.”

      “Ma’am, I’m not—”

      “I got to puzzling on that stranger hanging around here last night, and the more I thought on it, the more scared I got on account of—”

      “Stranger?” Harlan took the stairs two at a time and withdrew a small notebook from his shirt pocket. “When? What did he look like?”

      Lilah followed him, trying to quell the butterflies of alarm in her stomach.

      “He was medium height, a little on the thin side and dressed all in black. Kept walking back and forth in that hallway there.” She pointed to the hall where Lilah’s apartment was.

      “Did he wear a black ski mask?” Lilah asked, holding her breath.

      “No. If he had, I’d a called the police right away.”

      “Could you describe his face or hair?” Harlan asked.

      Ms. Cranston shook her head. “He stayed in the shadows.”

      Harlan sighed and returned the notepad to his shirt pocket.

      “Thing is,” Ms. Cranston continued, “another feller came ’round this morning dressed all in black. I leaned out my window and yelled, ‘Hey, whatcha doin’?’ He took off running to the parking lot without even turning around to see who was talking.”

      “Did you get a look at the car make and model, or a tag?”

      “It was a big dark blue car,” she said. “Sorry, I don’t know models and such as that.”

      Harlan nodded. “Thank you, ma’am.” He took Lilah’s arm and motioned for the stairs.

      “Hope you catch him,” Ms. Cranston called to their backs. “I don’t cotton to strangers roaming around here. Up to no good, I bet.”

      “We’re going to your apartment, and you’re going to pack your things,” СКАЧАТЬ