Red Line Read Free

missing juvenile?”
    “Yeah, we found him.”
    “Dead?”
    “Yeah, dumped in our city but probably killed elsewhere, so look for any evidence that might relate to an abduction or homicide.”
    “Nothing good ever happens when I talk to you fellas in Oakland,” the Danville officer said. “Whenever one of our citizens ends up in your city, they’re raped, robbed, or shot.”
    “Job security,” said Sinclair. “Do me a favor and keep this quiet. I want to be the one to tell his parents.”
    “You think they did it?”
    “Wouldn’t be the first time,” said Sinclair.

Chapter 3
    The sky was beginning to turn light and overpower the yellow sodium-vapor streetlights when an attractive woman in civilian clothes made her way through the uniforms toward Sinclair. Sinclair remembered the first time he saw Cathy Braddock. He was a rookie, starting his tour of duty on the night shift. A hard-bodied young officer right out of the academy, wearing a pair of tight jeans and a revealing tank top, caught his attention as she walked out of the locker room at the end of her shift. He was admiring her backside when a veteran cop poked him in the ribs. “Tread lightly, kid. Her father and grandfather were both Oakland cops. That makes her part of the family, not some tossup for you to add to your list of conquests.”
    Since then, Braddock had added a husband, two kids, and twenty pounds as she worked her way from patrol to sexual assault and finally to homicide, where she took Sinclair’s slot when he was kicked out of the unit six months ago. A plastic clip contained her thick, chestnut-colored hair, and her only makeup was pink lip gloss. The jacket of her brown pantsuit was at least a size too large but still couldn’t conceal the bulge from the Glock on her right hip.
    “Sorry I’m late,” she said. “Phil told me you’d always beat me to the scene.”
    When Sinclair transferred to homicide five years ago, Phil Roberts was his training officer. They remained partners until Sinclair was demoted, at which time Phil became Braddock’s trainer and partner. When Sinclair returned to homicide, Phil transferred to the intelligence unit, and that left Sinclair as the senior partner of the team and Braddock’s training officer for the remainder of her yearlong probation. Sinclair missed Phil. They had the best clearance rate in the unit, solving 80 percent of their cases. Now he was stuck with training a rookie homicide detective.
    Sinclair looked at his watch. “The one-hour rule is the outside limit. Good detectives make it to the scene a lot quicker.”
    When Sinclair was new in homicide, he would have slept in his clothes if that was what it took to get to a scene before his training officer.
    “Understood. I’ll do better next time,” she said, biting her lip.
    He briefed her on the scene and then said, “I’ll be the primary on this one—just shadow me and follow my lead.”
    “This isn’t my first dead body.”
    “It’s your first with me. I’ll give you more leeway when I think you’re ready. Besides, I haven’t had a fresh case in six months, and I don’t want the guys to think I’m dumping a shit case on my rookie partner.”
    A large van with the sheriff’s department seal on the sides crept toward the scene. “Here comes the meat wagon,” said Sinclair.
    Two older men stepped out. They wore rumpled sport coats and ties a decade out of style. Their title was coroner’sinvestigator, but to the police, they were little more than body snatchers. The forensic pathologists, the medical doctors who did the autopsies, rarely left the morgue.
    Charlie Dawson smiled broadly as he approached. “Sergeant Sinclair, I heard you were back.”
    “Charlie, have you met my new partner, Cathy Braddock?”
    Braddock extended her right hand. Sinclair reached out and pushed it back down.
    “Nice to meet you, Sergeant.” Dawson made no attempt to shake hands. “You’re a lot better looking than the other