Mystery: The Card Counter: (Mystery, Suspense, Thriller, Suspense Thriller Mystery) Read Free Page A

girls did as she was told and Sandy hopped into the back. Abbey looked over at me as she put on her seatbelt. “Am I in trouble, Daddy?”
    “In my profession,” I calmly responded as I waited for her sister to strap in before I began to drive, “the people who are being bad sit in the back.”
    “Uh-oh,” Abbey said as she finally understood what was going on.
    “What did I do?” Sandy called out from the back. She knew better not to fess up to anything until she knew what she was being accused of. No point piling on more charges just in case I was talking about something else.
    I waved a piece of paper in the air and passed it to her. “That test was faxed to my station yesterday,” I answered without taking my eyes off the road. “Your science teacher wants to know why it never came back with your mother’s signature on it.”
    “Damn,” Sandy cursed from the backseat. “How did he get your fax number?”
    “All your teachers have my card,” I answered. “That card has my number, my cell number, and the fax number at the station. Nothing happens without my knowing about it. It helps to have connections.”
    “So now what?” Sandy asked.
    “No friends or going outside the entire weekend,” I answered. I could tell she was upset, but that was too bad. Usually I let them play with friends on my weekends, especially if I got called into work, but this time she would have to stay at my place until further notice. Despite my attempt to enforce the code in my household, I still made an effort to smooth things over. “Do your time, and not only will I sign this for your teacher, but I won’t tell your mother about it. Okay?”
    I could see her steely gaze in the rear view mirror, which sent a small chill up my spine. Something she got from her mother. “All right,” she finally conceded.
    “This is your only warning,” I added. “I get another test like this, and I tell your mother.”
    “Okay,” Sandy replied as she crossed her arms. I hated being the bad cop, but sometimes it was necessary. Beth sometimes let the kids get away with too much, which left me to do the work alone with what little time I had; which, at times, led to my weekends being nothing more than a bitter staring match. And from that icy look in the back seat, I could already tell this was going to be a long weekend.

 
2
     
    It was around three in the morning when I got the call. I didn’t want to answer. Despite the internal struggle to fight the urge to wake up, I groaned and sat up. I picked up the cell to confirm what I had feared most ... work was calling. I clicked the green button on my phone and opened the line. “Walker, here.”
    “I need you out here, right now,” the voice on the other end pretty much commanded. I could tell from the lack of small talk that it was my boss. I doubt he enjoyed being up this early either. Part of me wanted to tell Captain George Bancroft where to go, and it wasn’t Kokomo. But I resisted for one simple reason, and it was how he’d structured the command: “I need you.”
    Captain Bancroft didn’t ask for help often. Usually, he was diplomatic if he was asking us to do extra work to help when they were burdened with too many cases at one time. It was this personal request that gave me the impression that whatever was going on was very serious.
    “Where are you?” I asked as I picked up my watch to confirm how early it was.
    There was a short pause. “I’m at the station. That’s not where the job is.”
    “And where is that?” I quickly asked.
    “ State University, East Campus,” he answered.
    The captain knew exactly what kind of response I would give, as within seconds I was more awake than I’d ever thought was possible at that time of the morning on an off day. “I’m on my way.”
    “They’re at the Arts building,” Captain Bancroft continued. “You should be able to navigate your way from there. Just follow the lights. I’ll get down there as soon as I can.