Every Fear Read Free Page B

washed over her. She was not afraid as she inched toward him, looking directly into his eyes.
    “Roger, please put the gun down.”
    “No.”
    “Please. Why are you doing this?”
    “You know why, Grace.”
    “Roger, please. You don’t want to hurt any more people.”
    “Yes, I do. I want to hurt everybody.”
    He pointed the gun at her.
    “I want to hurt you.”
    Two members of the wrestling team, small, quick boys, got Roger Briscoe down, smashing the gun from him, pinning him until the sirens started in with the alarm, until it all became one prolonged scream. One she could never silence. She’d never forget Mr. Lorten’s eyes staring wide at the ceiling.
    They were closed in his casket.
    The school, the city, and the Seattle Police Department gave her and the wrestlers awards for bravery. For preventing a tragedy from claiming more victims. That was when she’d decided to become a cop.
    After college, where she’d achieved the highest grades, she’d considered applying to the FBI before deciding on the Seattle Police Department. She’d worked the street, was decorated for tackling a fleeing suspect who’d wounded a teller during a bank robbery; scored high in every course and had proven herself. A few months ago, despite grumbling by old-school detectives, she was handpicked to join Homicide.
    This was her story so far.
    A smart cop, isolated from the world with only her work and her ghosts for company. Well, she thought, sipping her tea, maybe she didn’t want to be alone anymore. Maybe she could hear her clock ticking as she watched the little cutie-pies go by her window. Oh, enough of this poor me crap.
    “Earth to Grace.”
    Detective Perelli stared at her from the passenger seat.
    “Sorry, Dom. What’d you say?”
    “I said, looks like our guy’s a no-show. We’ll give it another ten, fifteen, then go back downtown. Clear up some paperwork.”
    “Sure.”
    “By the way, I’m hearing that Jake in Robbery has got two tickets for Sunday’s game. Expect a call.”
    “Quit trying to fix me up.”
    “Afraid I can’t do that. Look at you, all googly-eyed watching those kids. You’re giving off signals.”
    “Signals?”
    “Like life’s passing you by.”
    “What?”
    He swallowed some cold black coffee.
    “We’ve been partnered, what, ten months? And you know all about me. Eighteen years on the job, the last eight in Homicide. Wife, three kids, mortgage, and a bad back, makes me a part-time bastard.”
    “You got a point to make?”
    “You never open up to me like you’re supposed to.”
    “Like I’m supposed to?”
    “Part of the code.”
    “What code?”
    “Perelli’s code.”
    “You’re a nosy mother hen, Dominic.”
    “What’re you, like twenty-eight, twenty-seven, right?”
    “What does it matter?”
    “Nobody makes Homicide that young. Not in my world. You’re different. Know what the guys in Robbery told us about you just after you came to us?”
    “I don’t care.”
    “You’re a sad young woman and we should find you a man to make you happy. Now take Jake in Internet Crimes, a bit of a computer geek, but so was Gates and look where—ouch.”
    Grace’s elbow in Perelli’s ribs ended his teasing just as her cell phone rang.
    “Garner.”
    “It’s Boulder. We got a woman in Ballard struck by a vehicle. Hit-and-run. Paramedics say she’s not going to make it.”
    “Who’s the primary?”
    “You are, Grace. You and Dom haul it to the hospital now. Try for a declaration.”
    She reached into her blazer for her notebook, checked the time, and started logging.
    “Where’d they take her?”
    “Swedish. Ballard campus. Do what you can there, then hook up with Schaeffer and Berman at the scene. I’ll get right back to you with her name and family details.”
    “All right.”
    Grace turned the ignition, then pointed to the dash cherry. Perelli fished it out.
    “And Grace,” Boulder said, “the FBI will be on this too.”
    “The FBI? Why?”
    “Whoever