THE MARINE'S LAST DEFENSE Read Free Page B

surprised to hear his name until Jake pointed at his dangling nameplate stuck on his sleeve. “Don’t lose that in someone’s breakfast.”
    The woman in the corner laughed, barely, but it was a sweet sound compared to the silent razing he’d been taking for wrecking the murder scene. Sweet, and it brought a smile to his frozen face.
    “I was wonderin’ how you knew.” Carl reached for the cups and coffeepot. “You want cream or sugar?”
    “Blacks all round. Thanks.”
    “Hey, you with the cops at the lake? A guy came in earlier and said you found a body by the dam.”
    “Detective Jake Craig, Dallas P.D.,” Jake acknowledged, trying to dissuade him from asking more questions. It didn’t work.
    “So was it a woman, like they say? Was she really all in white? Murdered? Froze to death?”
    Everyone, including himself, wanted those answers.
    “How long have you been at work today?” he asked. If the counter guy wanted to be chatty, might as well point him in the right direction.
    “Been here since ’bout midnight, I think. Took a while in this weather with the roads the way they were. I skidded through two different red lights. Glad you weren’t around then.”
    “How about her?” Jake asked about the woman in the corner.
    “Bree? She’s been here since I came on board.”
    “That’s a long time to nurse a cup of java.”
    “Nah, happens all the time. And I think that’s her fourth or fifth hot chocolate. She nods off every once in a while.”
    There was a rolling suitcase against the wall next to her. “She homeless?”
    “Naw, nothin’ like that. Lost her car, broke down a couple of months back, and she walks everywhere. Does jobs for people in Lakewood, picks up an extra shift around here sometimes. Manager don’t mind her sitting there when we ain’t busy.”
    “You said she’s been here since midnight?” His victim had already been killed by then.
    “Yeah, let me get you a carrier for these. I got a new box of ’em in the back,” Carl said, putting the last lid on a large cup.
    “How much do I owe you?”
    “On the house for cops.”
    After leaving a five, Jake put his wallet away and leaned against the counter, watching the busy intersection. Predawn joggers, walkers with dogs, people driving by and going about their ordinary day. Busy, yet not a single witness. He took the lid off one cup and poured a good amount of sugar in. He’d need the extra calories today.
    While he sipped, he watched, honing his skills, making mental notes. Passing the time like he had for so many years.
    The woman Carl called Bree shifted in her seat, looking nervous. She’d obviously overheard the conversation with Carl. Most people were more curious for details. When he came across someone who turned away, covered their face and tried to act casual about doing so...it normally meant they were hiding something.
    Or was he just being overly suspicious again, wanting to investigate a murder instead of paying his dues by getting coffee?
    Stick it out. They’ll come around soon enough.
    Carl loaded the coffees into the cardboard.
    “Thanks, man.”
    “No problemo. Come back when there’s not a murder. Gotta get ready for my breakfast regulars.” Carl waved and returned to the kitchen.
    “I’ll do that.” Jake leaned his shoulder against the door, pushing it open for a fraction of a second. Hit by a blast of frigid air, the coffee carrier tipped toward his filthy coat. He let the door slam, successfully catching the coffees and balancing them against his chest. A tiny giggle from the corner. He looked up and locked eyes with Bree. The woman had a beautiful smile. No matter how brief or even if she was laughing at his near disaster.
    She quickly hid her eyes by resting her forehead on her hand. Her reaction made him more than a little curious. He set the container down on the first booth’s table and deliberately meandered past the booth that separated them.
    Speak. He stood there, waiting.