THE MARINE'S LAST DEFENSE Read Free Page A

radio. Nothing. He took his cell from its carrier on his hip. Nothing. He moved up the hill until he had reception and dialed.
    “Dallas 911. What’s your emergency?”
    “This is Detective Jake Craig, badge 5942. I have an expired subject. Bus required at Garland and Winstead parking lot WTR 114 marker.”
    “An ambulance has been dispatched to your location. Do you need me to connect you to Homicide?” the dispatcher asked.
    “Thanks, but we’re already here.”
    “Understood, Detective Craig.”
    Protocol required him to ask for an ambulance, but he knew it wasn’t necessary. The woman frozen to the ground a couple of feet away was dead and had been most of the night. He’d seen the dead before. Many times over and under too many circumstances to remember them all. He didn’t want to remember.
    Life was easier when he didn’t.
    The pup tipped her soggy face up at him, and then rested on his thigh. Jake looked around the crushed crime scene as he dialed his partner’s cell. “I don’t know about you, Dallas, but it’s going to be a helluva long day.”

Chapter Two
    This murder should have been Jake’s. He’d discovered that body—and ruined the crime scene. No one razed him or admonished him for being so stupid.
    All of the men thought the dog was great. But it was still his job to control it—not an easy task without a leash. He’d found a silver emergency blanket in the trunk and had fashioned a makeshift rope by slicing the end off.
    No words saying he should have left the pup there. Nothing except “four black coffees, Craig,” turning him into a glorified errand boy. He had to remember that it was the appropriate place for the rookie team member. He walked to the car with a few laughs and snickers behind his back. His partner hadn’t offered the keys. No way he was going to beg, but he could keep the pup warm inside the car while he walked across the street.
    A local diner was on the opposite corner. He could handle the errands and understood they came with being the newest team member. He’d dumped enough rookies into the same position himself over the years. He was just ready to move forward, to investigate. He hated being stuck with unimportant things. It gave him too much time to think about the life he’d wanted while in Afghanistan that seemed so far out of his reach.
    The tremor he’d forgotten started his hand twitching. He fisted his fingers and shoved it in his pocket. Out of sight, out of his thoughts. Right along with the dreams he’d had from another time.
    “Man alive, it’s cold out here.” A man waited on the corner to cross Gaston Boulevard, jumping in place to keep warm. “You a cop?”
    Jake gave a short nod, not in the mood for curious onlookers. Even those dressed all in black, sturdy shoes and expensive leather gloves. Why was this guy walking anywhere in this weather? Not everyone’s a suspect, he said, to quiet the suspicions forming in his head.
    This wasn’t the Middle East, where he couldn’t trust a kid crossing the street or even a middle-aged man dressed in black. The light turned red, the walk light blinked on and they both crossed. The man continued to the convenience store next to the diner, probably after cigarettes, since he’d reeked of nicotine.
    Jake entered the old-fashioned diner and stuffed his gloves in his pockets. The place was basically empty except for a pretty raven-haired woman in the back booth. As soon as he looked in her direction, she dropped her lips to the edge of the mug and blew, gingerly sipping and not making eye contact.
    Nothing suspicious in a young woman wanting to be left alone by a man covered in mud.
    A robust man dressed in a bright red-and-black shirt hurried out of the kitchen. He only needed a white beard to look exactly like an off-duty Santa Claus. “Have a seat anywhere,” he said, wiping his hands on the bottom of his flannel plaid shirt.
    “I just need five coffees to go, Carl.” The Santa named Carl looked