Beyond This Time: A Time-Travel Suspense Novel Read Free Page B

Templeton to be his new partner.
    His request only opened a small crack in the door, and Mitch told her, “It’s up to you to prove yourself, Kat. Do that and then you can kick the door wide open.”
    His assessment had been accurate. Over time, the crude remarks and negative attitudes subsided and she was judged on performance alone. Not by gender. Not by color. The door hung by its hinges. Before long, Mitchell and Templeton were known as ‘The Red and Black Unit’. And as an exceptional team.
    They worked well together because each brought different skills to the job. Gifted with flawless logic and a knack for negotiation, Mitch’s calm demeanor worked wonders with hysterical and frightened individuals.
    Kat operated from a different perspective, mostly instinct and attitude. Her strong and reliable street sense enabled her to quickly analyze a developing situation for potential violence.
    On their first anniversary as partners, Mitch had given her a small cowboy boot-shaped pin, made of copper and silver, with a brass spur. He said it would serve as a reminder that sometimes she might have to kick the door in. She wore it every day, pinned either inside her uniform or on public display. It was her good luck talisman. Like the copper and silver, she and Mitch were the ideal blend.
    She hoped their chemistry would be strong enough for him to buy into her latest scheme.
    * * *
    Mitch glanced up from the computer printout. “What’s this letter ‘N’ all about? It’s only next to certain names.”
    “It stands for Negro.” Kat said. “Personally, I’ve always found that tidy little Southern euphemism to be insulting.”
    “Then do something about it.”
    “Maybe I will.”
    Southern traditions were slow to change because the folks kicked and screamed, fighting it every step of the way. But eventually the changes had come. To be honest, Kat knew some degree of racial tension still simmered beneath the moist soil, but it seldom erupted with the force seen in the turbulent sixties.
    Yet, in spite of all the progress, from time to time the old South reared its ugly head, and when that happened, she wanted to grab a sword and slice it off.
    Humming We Shall Overcome she glanced at Mitch then moved the blinking cursor to the N and hit DELETE eight times.
    “After chopping off all those ugly heads, I sure do feel a whole lot better,” she said as the last N disappeared. “How about you?”
    He grinned and gave her the thumbs up sign. “Now, regarding this other business. Kat, there is no way these arson cases are connected to the crank calls we caught.”
    “I know it sounds a little crazy,” her voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper, “but they are connected. How else do you explain names, dates and addresses that match?”
    Mitch quickly responded. “A twelve-year-old smart ass computer hacker got into the system and played the department, and us, for fools.”
    She shook her head. “I don’t think so. It’s too pat. My instinct tells me this is for real. Plus, you’ve got all the things Dreama Simms said.”
    He pushed away from the desk and walked over to the coffee corner. He poured a cup and added a liberal dose of creamer and Sweet n’ Low.
    Kat joined him at the coffee pot, wondering why he bothered with the artificial low calorie sweetner when he generally ate an entire box of Krisy Kreme doughnuts by himself.
    “In the five and half years we’ve partnered, have I ever steered you down the wrong path? Trust me.”
    He held his hand up. “Stop. This isn’t about trust and you know it. You’re a great partner and friend; I just wondered where this instinct of yours is coming from.”
    “It’s my New Orleans blood rising to the surface.”
    “Mumbo jumbo,” Mitch muttered.
    She could tell from his face that she was losing ground. She should have known better than to discuss anything so undisciplined as instinct with ‘Only the facts, ma’am’ Mitchell. Her partner didn’t have one