Manhattan Flame (A Bridge & Tunnel Romance Book 2) Read Free Page A

serious. If you witnessed a murder, if that’s really what happened, then no, you don’t get to disappear into the night. There will be a full investigation and we’ll need to follow up with you.”
    She looked reluctant, far too reluctant to cooperate, but he held her gaze anyway, and it finally registered that she was nearly as tall as him. Not that he should let himself get distracted by such a detail... maybe she was wearing heels, he hadn’t noticed one way or the other when she’d come in.
    “Fine,” she told him, sounding defeated as she blew air through her teeth. “Tasha Buckley... here.”
    She stole the pen from him, leaning over the counter and making slow work of identifying each field. He pointed, indicating the Name field, then the Address field, Home and Cell numbers and so on down the list, as she filled it out. Then he slipped the form away and took over again, entirely aware that she smelled faintly of lilacs. He didn’t know flower scents, not beyond lilacs since his mother had a bush in front of his childhood house on Staten Island.
    “When did this happen?” He asked, stealing quick glances at her as she composed herself to answer.
    “Just now. I was going to call 911 when it was happening but my cell died so I walked over here. It took me maybe ten minutes to walk.”
    “Did you get a good look at these guys?”
    “Good enough.”
    “From how far away?”
    She held his gaze and Kevin could tell he wasn’t going to like her response.
    “Two, maybe three hundred yards.”
    Ordinarily he would’ve laughed a civilian right out of the precinct. Only a hawk could see from that distance. If her allegation proved to be valid, he doubted she'd be able to ID the perp in a lineup. But there was something about Tasha—the glint in her brown eyes, the way she pressed her mouth, even her apprehension about being here in the first place told him that she wasn’t making this up.
    “Give me a sec, alright?” he said before glancing over his shoulder to get a read on where the sergeant was skulking around.
    Traumatizing Taite again, he should’ve known.
    “I’ll be right back.”
    It took more effort than he cared to admit to tear his gaze from her, but he broke free and wove his way through the bullpen until he reached Reilly, who was sloshing what looked like luke-warm coffee around in a cracked mug.
    Speaking low, Kevin said, “I got a woman who saw a murder down by Pier Twelve. Says two men pushed another into the river.”
    “People don’t die falling in the water,” he grumbled.
    “She seems credible,” he insisted while keeping his tone even.
    Reilly glanced past the hustle and bustle of his detectives to the woman beyond the front desk and Kevin caught the exact moment his sergeant had written the whole thing off.
    And it was because Tasha was black.
    Kevin could smell it. This type of dismissive racism had been brewing throughout the entire department ever since the day he’d started and it didn’t bode well for inspiring him to move up the ranks.
    But he wasn’t going to back down. “Talk to her. Send a cruiser over. According to her this happened ten or fifteen minutes ago.”
    Reilly said, “I’m going to show you something.” He sounded companionable enough, but Kevin knew the man was anything but. “Come with me.”
    The sergeant stomped out to the front desk, as Kevin trailed tightly behind, and Tasha seemed to stiffen at their approach. She folded her arms and a distinct look of distrust shielded her otherwise frightened features.
    “What’s your name?” he barked, making a display of eyeing the monitor, the report on the counter, anywhere but Tasha in order to make her feel small.
    In this moment, Kevin genuinely despised him.
    “Tasha Buckley,” she said clearly with a faint street-lilt in her tone. “You want to hear what I have to say?”
    “I know what you think, Sweetheart.” Tasha screwed her face up at the endearment and then her eyes went slack as if