RCC03 - Beneath a Weeping Sky Read Free Page A

laid. That wasn’t why he took the job.
    He glanced around the empty office and smirked. When the Chief decided to assign a lieutenant to Internal Affairs, he pulled out all four of the previously assigned detectives. Hart had no support staff and even had to type his own reports. He knew the Chief did it as a form of punishment, but he refused to let it get to him. He might be banished from patrol and investigations, but he still intended to have an impact on the department.
    Kahn’ file stared up at him. He snatched it up and replaced it in his active cases drawer. What a waste of time. The worst the guy would get is a verbal reprimand from his sergeant and told to stay away from Life’s Bean Good. He’d just go find another barista. There was a coffee stand on every corner in River City.
    Besides, these cases were a smokescreen. They had to be. Hart knew there were things happening out there that he needed to find. Cops stealing. Faking evidence. Beating people. Just because River City was nestled in Eastern Washington, right in the center of the Pacific Northwest, didn’t mean there wasn’t corruption. Maybe not New York or Los Angeles level corruption, but Hart knew it was out there. The cops were covering for each other, that was all.
    They thought they were so smart.
    But Hart knew they weren’t as smart as him.
     
    1122 hours
     
    Patricia Reno wished there were an easier way to get thin. Jogging was too painful.
    She’d started jogging almost a month before, finally tired of the weight that never came off after Joshua, her second son, was born. Sit-ups, she discovered, did not burn fat and she couldn’t afford a gym membership, so she took up jogging.
    As her feet thudded heavily on the pavement, she felt her thighs and belly jiggle. Her breasts flopped uncomfortably. She vowed for the tenth time to buy a sports bra. At least she was starting to notice a little difference in her body. She was now able to just squeeze into clothes she’d worn early in her pregnancy.
    If only her husband, Roger, would notice.
    Patricia's breath labored in and out of her lungs, but she no longer experienced the ragged throat sensation that she had for the first week. Her wind had improved quickly. That made it easier for her to avoid smoking again. She’d quit the day she learned she was pregnant and hadn't started back up yet, but it was hard. Especially since Roger smoked like a chimney.
    She spotted the small park less than a block away. As soon as she ran through that, she would only be five blocks from home. That meant four blocks of running, one block of walking to cool down.
    Despite the discomfort, Patricia found that she was beginning to enjoy her daily run. She still struggled with it too much to have a chance to think while running, but with two kids to worry about, the solitude was nice. So was the sense of accomplishment. She hadn't stopped during a run since that first week.
    The air became cooler as she entered the park and ran along the twisting trail that led into the small wooded area. The tree roots and turns of the trail forced her to adjust her gait. That nearly killed her three weeks ago, but now she did so much more fluidly and deliberately. She watched the ground, not wanting to trip on the damp earth.
    She caught a flash of movement, but before her mind could register and identify it, someone forced a towel into her face. A strong arm encircled her waist and carried her several yards before she felt herself hurled to the ground. A hard heavy body fell on top of her. She lay on her back with her right forearm pinned under the small of her back.
    The towel restricted her air. She panicked and flailed frantically with her free left hand, struggling to breathe. The cloth slid up, exposing her mouth. She took a deep, ragged breath. An iron hand clamped over her mouth.
    “If you scream, I’ll lay the whammo on you.” A male voice rasped in her ear. “Understand?”
    Patricia lay still, stunned.
    He