Terminal 9 Read Free

working with the veteran, instead of a rookie detective. Not that she didn’t have experience. She’d spent the last year on patrol and had studied and worked hard to get into the department. Mac wasn’t exactly a newcomer either, having worked for several years on patrol and as a detective in property crimes, as well as the Child Abuse Unit.
    Besides, he didn’t like the idea of having Dana as his partner in another way. He had been hoping to date her again, but anything other than a working relationship at this point was not a good idea. They had dated for a while in college until they went their separate ways. He’d run into her a few months ago while working on another case, and their friendship had solidified again.
    Mac was slipping his shoulder holster back on when the phone rang. He checked his weapon out of habit to ensure it was loaded before stuffing the handgun back in the holster under his left arm. Mac reached over the counter and grabbed the phone.
    â€œThis is Mac.”
    â€œMac, hey. Dana here. Got your page.”
    â€œWe have a death out in St. Helens. It sounds like there might be some odd circumstances, since the D.A. wants us to check it out.
    Sarge is sending us out to work the scene.”
    â€œWhat happened?”
    â€œGuy got hit by a train. Are you available?”
    â€œSure. I need to run by the house and grab my gear and my work car. I can be at the office in thirty.”
    â€œWant me to pick you up at your place? It’s on my way.”
    â€œNo—uh, the office is fine. I’ll see you there.”
    Mac set the receiver back in the cradle. “Why not your house?” he grumbled to himself as he walked back to the bedroom to exchange his dress shoes for a pair of hiking shoes. He left the coat and tie on the sofa, selecting a rain jacket with a fleece liner from the hall closet. Mac then grabbed his keys off the counter and opened the front door, startling himself and the delivery boy who was standing in the entryway.
    â€œYour order, Mr. Mac.” The young Asian held up a bag to eye level.
    â€œSorry, I almost ran out on you. Got a call to go back to work.” Mac pulled a twenty from his wallet and handed it to the teenager. “Keep the change.” After taking a deep whiff of the tantalizing food, he hurried back to the kitchen and stuffed the bags into the refrigerator. “Should make a good breakfast.”
    As he locked the front door and headed for his duty car, an unmarked white Crown Victoria, Mac’s frustration at missing dinner and the game melted into anticipation. He wondered what they’d find at the scene and why the district attorney felt compelled to call in the State Police detectives. An old guy, Sarge had said, hit by a train. Mac slid in behind the wheel. He couldn’t say why, but something told him this wasn’t going to be as simple as Sergeant Frank Evans made it sound.

THREE
    M AC PLLLED IN TO THE BACK LOT of the SE Portland office shortly before 7:00 p.m. The slow security gate opened wide enough for his car, and he parked next to the building’s back entrance. Dana’s unmarked blue Pontiac Grand Am was already in the office lot with its trunk open. Dana leaned inside to collect her gear.
    Mac pulled up alongside and rolled down his window. “Going my way?”
    â€œ ’Fraid so,” Dana answered without looking up. She slipped her blue crime scene windbreaker over a white blouse, sweater vest, and suit jacket that went with her black dress slacks and sturdy black shoes.
    â€œYou don’t have to sound so happy about it,” Mac complained, feeling put off.
    She rolled her eyes at him. “Give me a break. You know what I mean.”
    â€œI have everything we’ll need. Just grab your notebook and let’s get a move on.” Mac glanced over at the dash clock on the car, then back at his watch to press his point.
    â€œI’m not worried about the