Murder Key Read Free Page A

kids on the rockets. Could you tell the make?”
                  “No. Sorry.”
                  “No problem, Matt. You’ve done better than most.”
                  “I think I need to get home, Bill. I’m beat, and I can’t seem to stop shaking.”
                  “Do you want me to get Doc Britt to look in on you?”
                  “No, I’ll be okay. I just need to settle down some.”
                  “Okay. I’ll put an officer at your condo tonight. We’ll talk more about this in the morning.”
                  “Thanks, Bill. I’ll see you tomorrow.” 
                  The chief and I agreed to meet at the Blue Dolphin for breakfast the next morning . Logan insiste d on driving me home. I’d retrieve my car the next day.

37
     
     
    Murder Key
                               
                                                                                       
     
     
     
     
    THREE
     
     
     
     
     
                  Logan walked to the door of my condo with me. “Want me to come in?” he asked.
                  “No, thanks. I’m fine. I’m still a little shaky, but I’ll get over it.’
                  “Okay. Call me if you need anything.” 
                  I couldn’t sit still. I roamed my condo, drinking a beer, trying to talk myself out of this odd state I’d been in since the shooter pointed his pistol at me. I looked out the window and saw the Longboat Key patrol car in the parking lot. I could just make out the figure of a cop behind the steering wheel. I knew another officer was outside my door. They’d be there all night, because the chief told them to, and because they were my friends. We islanders take care of each other.
                  I was not happy with myself. I had crafted a self-image that ran to the macho, and I was feeling a lot like a wuss tonight. I’m not sure what a wuss is, but I think it’s the opposite of macho.
                  I had been to war, killed some people, got shot up, survived and lived a pretty good life. A few months before, I thought my life was over when three men tried to kill me on Egmont Key. I killed two of them, took some injuries to my own priceless hide, and never looked back. I was glad they were dead, and not me. It seemed like a good trade off, and I didn’t suffer the remorse that I’ve always heard good cops feel when they have to shoot some scumbag.
                  But now I was scared. I didn’t like that feeling. Where had my old macho self gone? Perhaps it was just the result of that instant when I knew with absolute certainty that I was about to die. In every other time I’d faced death, I’d been moving, in action, trying to save my skin. At Tiny’s, I was frozen in place, unable to react . I’d waited for death for what seemed like a long time, although it was only a moment. It scared the hell out of me. That was an emotion I hadn’t felt in years.
                  I knew I was going to have to get over this. Whoever tried to kill me was not likely to give up. I had no idea who wanted me dead, or why. But I figured if I was to survive, I’d have to find out who and why and put a stop to it.
                  I owned a thirty-eight caliber snub-nosed revolver, the same kind of handgun that had almost killed me a few hours earlier. I hadn’t fired it in years. I took it out of the safe in my closet and spent an hour cleaning it. I clamped the holster to my belt and practiced drawing and dry firing the gun. I felt a little bit like Tom Mix, the old movie cowboy, but I was getting the hang of it. Old habits return quickly, and I’d once kept a weapon close at all times.
                  Several years before,