The Crush Read Free Page A

sneakers, that had made deep impressions in the Galveston sand. Oren wasn't dressed for fishing or beachcombing, not even for kicking back here on the deck with an Astros game on the radio and cold beer in the fridge.
    He had arrived dressed for business.
    Buttoned down and belted up, bureaucracy personified. Even as they shook hands Wick had recognized his friend's game face and knew with certainty and disappointment that this was not a social visit.
    He was equally certain that whatever it was that Oren had come to say, he didn't want to hear it.
    "You weren't fired, Wick."
    "No, I'm taking an "indefinite leave of absence.""
    "That was your choice."
    "Under duress."
    "You needed time to cool off and get it together."
    "Why didn't the suits just fire me? Make it easier on everybody?"
    "They're smarter than you are."
    Wick came around. "Is that right?"
    "They know, everybody who knows you knows, that you were born for this kinda work."
    "This kinda work?" He snorted. "Shoveling shit, you mean? If I cleaned out stables for a living, I wouldn't have to do as much of it as I did in the FWPD."
    "Most of that shit you brought on yourself."
    Wick snapped the rubber band he habitually wore around his wrist. He disliked being reminded of that time and of the case that had caused him to criticize his superiors vociferously about the inefficiency of the justice system in general and the FWPD in particular. "They let that gang-banger cop a plea."
    "Because they couldn't get him for murder, Wick.
    They knew it and the DA knew it. He's in for six."
    "He'll be out in less than two. And he'll do it again. Somebody else will die. You can count on it. And all because our department and the DA'S office went limp-dick when it came to a violation of the little shit's rights."
    "Because you used brute force when you arrested him."
    Lowering his voice, Oren added, "But your problem with the department wasn't about that case and you know it."
    "Oren," Wick said threateningly.
    "The mistake that--"
    "Fuck this," Wick muttered. He crossed the deck in two long strides. The screen door slapped shut behind him.
    Oren followed him back into the kitchen. "I didn't come to rehash all that."
    "Could've fooled me."
    "Will you stop stomping around for a minute and let me talk to you? You'll want to see this."
    "Wrong. What I want is another beer."
    He removed one from the refrigerator and pried off the top with a bottle opener. He left the metal cap where it landed on the wavy linoleum floor.
    Oren retrieved a folder he'd brought with him and extended it to Wick, who ignored it. But his retreat out the back door was halted when his bare foot came down hard on the sharp teeth of the bottle cap. Cursing, he kicked the offender across the floor and dropped down into one of the chrome-legged dining chairs. The shrimp shells were beginning to stink.
    He propped his foot on his opposite knee and appraised the damage. There was a deep impression of the bottle cap on the ball of his foot, but it hadn't broken the skin.
    Showing no sympathy whatsoever, Oren sat down across from him. "Officially I'm not here.
    Understood? This is a complex situation. It has to be handled delicately."
    "Something wrong with your hearing, Oren?"
    "I know you'll be as intrigued as I am."
    "Don't forget to pick up your jacket on your way out."
    Oren removed several eight-by-ten black-and-white photographs from the folder.
    He held one up so that Wick couldn't avoid looking at it. After a moment, he showed him another.
    Wick stared at the photo, then met Oren's eyes above it. "Did they get any shots of her with her clothes on?"
    "You know Thigpen. He took these for grins."
    Wick snorted acknowledgment of the mentioned detective.
    "In Thigpen's defense, our stakeout house gives us a clear view into her bedroom."
    "Still no excuse for these. Unless she's an exhibitionist and knew she was being watched."
    "She isn't and she doesn't."
    "What's her story?"
    Oren grinned. "You're dying to know,