The Devil She Knew Read Free Page A

form.
    He snagged a pen from the pen cup. “Do all customers make you this nervous or just the cops?”
    That generated a reaction that surprised him. Her head jerked up, her hand flew to her throat, and the color drained from her face just as Amber walked over.
    “You got it, Cass?”
    “You better check it,” she whispered. “Excuse me.” She turned and scurried to the back office.
    Clay cocked his head and raised a questioning eyebrow. His cop’s instinct had jumped to high alert. “Is she like that with all the customers?”
    Amber punched numbers on the touch screen as she answered. “No. She’s doing really well.”
    “She talk much?”
    “Not hardly. Plays it real close to the vest. We were busy yesterday, so there wasn’t much chance, really.” Amber slid the computer-generated receipt toward Clay. “Don’t get too interested. I might get jealous.”
    Clay smiled as he folded the receipt and tucked it in his back pocket. He winked at Amber. “You know you’re the only woman in my heart. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
    Amber laughed as he walked toward the door. “I wish you meant that!”
    A good cop has a sixth sense, always on low, spinning silently in the back of his brain. Even when Clay tried not to notice, he picked up signals from people. Body language. Facial expressions. Eye movements.
    Cassidy appeared more nervous than she should. The Packing Place had a high employee turnover. It was hard work for minimum wage and, if Amber’s stories were true, the owner liked to get a little too familiar with his female hires. Clay had seen a lot of workers come and go in the three years he’d been shipping evidence to the state crime lab. Cassidy’s nervousness appeared to be on a different level, more intense than the average new kid on the job.
    He shrugged off his thoughts as he turned the ignition and headed home. Whatever was the matter, it wasn’t his problem.
    • • •
    Lunch offered the first break of the day. Amber jumped up on the packing table, crossed her legs Indian style, and slid a hoagie from a takeout bag. She took a big bite from the heel and eyed Cassidy as she gingerly removed a peanut butter and jelly sandwich from a plastic sandwich bag.
    “That all you gonna eat?”
    Cassidy smiled at the dressing smeared on Amber’s chin. “Yes. I don’t eat much.”
    “Not me. I love to eat.”
    That made her chuckle. “You seem to love everything, Amber.”
    Amber grinned, her mouth too full to respond. Cassidy nibbled at the edge of her sandwich.
    “I saw you walking from the bus stop this morning. Where you living?” She wiped her mouth with a napkin.
    “I rented an apartment on Fortieth Street.”
    Amber crinkled her nose. “Fortieth Street? That’s not exactly a nice neighborhood. Lot of drive-by shootings around there. It doesn’t seem like a place you’d want to live.”
    “It’s all I can afford right now.”
    “How’d you end up there? I don’t peg you for a druggie. And that area is a hangout for dealers. Probably why so many shootings.”
    Cassidy examined a corner of her sandwich bag. “I’ve heard gunfire. It’s pretty scary. It’s only temporary. Until I can get some money together for something better.”
    “Yeah, better. ‘Cause you sure don’t look like you belong there.”
    That scared Cassidy. She worked so hard on this disguise. “Why do you say that?”
    Amber waved her hand in the air. “Look at you. You’re cleaned and pressed. Your nails are done, your hair is fashionable. The glasses are over the top, but you can’t help your eyesight, I guess. But you reek of class, not someone who came from the poor side of town. Not someone who lives on Fortieth Street.”
    Cassidy hadn’t considered the need for a back story, a history she could easily recount if someone asked about her past. Amber wasn’t prying, she was simply being friendly. Still, if she asked too many questions, Cassidy did not have ready answers.
    Amber eyed her