The Innocent Witness Read Free Page B

don’t want to be responsible for other people’s lives again,” he’d countered, hating the reason his life had been derailed. Guilt and pain ate at him night and day, never letting him forget his failure.
    â€œWhen are you going to stop wallowing in thisridiculous self-pity?” Angie had demanded, using her best cop voice.
    As a Boston homicide detective, she had the art of intimidation down pat. Of course she’d had to learn to stand strong against her two older brothers growing up. And just like their father, a Boston police officer, and both him and their other brother Joe, an ATF agent, she’d gone into law enforcement.
    â€œYou don’t get to judge me,” he’d snapped. Being called on the carpet by his baby sister for his state of mind hadn’t sat well.
    She’d sighed. “I’m not judging you. I’m worried about you. Just talk to Trent. See what he has to offer. It’s got to be better than this.” She’d made a sweeping gesture. “ You’re better than this.”
    He wasn’t so sure. The bitter taste he’d had in the back of his throat for weeks intensified.
    â€œYou have a law degree. At least do something with that.”
    â€œI’m only licensed in D.C.” Practicing law had never been his goal.
    She’d cut the air with her hand. “Excuses!”
    They’d stared at each other for a long moment. Love for his sister filled him. He reached out to give her a hug. He appreciated her concern even if he didn’t deserve it.
    â€œPlease, pray about it,” she’d urged.
    He hadn’t the heart to confess to his little sis that he and God weren’t on speaking terms lately.
    But last night he’d finally capitulated and called Trent because self-pity was a cold and nasty companion. And frankly, the job at the construction site didn’t pay allthat well. Anthony had resorted to living off his credit cards. Not exactly a noble or prudent way to survive.
    So here he was on a bright Monday morning, at the threshold of a possible new future. One he hadn’t yet decided he really wanted.
    The “clickity-clack” of high heels against pavement halted him on the first stair. A man and woman approached and turned down the walkway, clearly headed to Trent Associates. Though Anthony guessed they were both in their late twenties or early thirties, the two couldn’t have been more opposite if they’d tried.
    The exotically pretty woman dressed in a knee-length black skirt, black formfitting blouse and black pumps was a sharp contrast to the tousled blond man in loafers, khakis and a bright blue polo shirt.
    â€œCan we help you?” the woman asked.
    From the way her gaze sized him up, Anthony guessed she was some kind of police officer. Or had been, since Anthony’s research showed most of Trent Associates were ex-something-or-other, just like him.
    â€œI have a meeting with James Trent,” Anthony replied. He stuck out his hand. “Anthony Carlucci.”
    â€œWell, come on in,” the man said, grasping Anthony’s hand while clapping him on the back. “Wouldn’t do to keep the boss man waiting. I’m Kyle Martin and this firecracker is Simone Walker.”
    Simone shot a hard glare at Kyle, who only grinned before bounding up the stone steps and pushing through the front door of Trent Associates.
    Simone shook Anthony’s hand. “You’ll have to excuse Kyle. He’s like a big puppy in need of obedience training.”
    â€œI heard that!” Kyle’s voice floated out of the open front door.
    Simone rolled her dark eyes and preceded Anthony inside. A reception desk sat straight ahead at the bottom of a curved staircase. An olive-skinned woman, with black hair twisted into a knot at her nape and dressed in a red business suit, manned the station. She gave them a wide, welcoming smile. “Morning, Simone.”
    â€œMorning,