Thief Read Free Page B

of the trash, but something made her stop. She shoved
the card in the front pocket of her jeans.
    She still had no intention of joining the
police force, but you never knew. It might not hurt to have a
friend who was a police detective.
    Who knew? Someday it might even come in
handy.
    # # #
    SPECIAL BONUS MATERIAL
    An excerpt from the Abby Maxon novel
PRETTY LITTLE HORSES

Chapter 1
     
    The worst part about being a private
investigator is learning things I'd rather not know about the
people in my life.
    Take Jimmy Fisher. Husband, father,
part-time soccer coach. All around nice guy.
    Or so I thought.
    I've known Jimmy since we were both students
at the University of Nevada in Reno more years ago than I care to
remember. He was really my ex-husband Ryan's friend, not mine, but
in the years since graduation, we'd all stayed in town and stayed
in touch.
    Reno used to be a small place where you
might run into a half dozen people you knew at the mall, an old
high school teacher at the grocery store, or an old friend like
Jimmy at the movies. Not so much anymore, thanks to the nearly
unchecked urban sprawl that saw the town fill the valley and invade
the foothills back in the days before the economy went bust. These
days, I might run into Jimmy at my daughter's school functions or a
soccer tournament. To say I was surprised when he called me out of
the blue was an understatement.
    Two weeks before Christmas, I had other
things I needed to do rather than meet with an old college friend
for drinks, but Jimmy wouldn't take no for an answer. He
practically begged. In all the years I'd known him, I'd never heard
Jimmy beg for anything.
    I showed up at Currier's Bar and Grill ten
minutes late. Traffic in south Reno this time of year was a bitch.
Currier's was a stone's throw from one of the biggest malls in
town, and Jimmy wanted to meet at five-thirty. I'd been stuck in
stop and go traffic with half the valley. By the time I found a
parking spot in Currier's lot, I had the beginning of a decent
tension headache. Merry ho ho ho. Maybe I should put a sleigh and
flying reindeer on my Christmas list.
    Currier's was an upscale, strip mall version
of a British pub. Walls paneled in dark walnut, sturdy booths
upholstered in burgundy leather, and a long, dark wood bar polished
to a mirrored finish. The clientele were mostly young
professionals. By the time I got there, the booths and bar stools
were filling up with the end of the work day crowd. I guessed not
everyone was in the mood for full-body contact Christmas shopping.
Either that, or they needed a little fortification before they
faced the crowds.
    A flat-screen television behind the bar was
tuned to ESPN when I walked in. College football. This time of the
year, a Wednesday night game meant it had to be an early bowl game
named after some corporate sponsor. I didn't look at the teams or
the score. I quit following football the day Ryan and I split up. I
told myself I didn't miss it.
    Jimmy sat hunched in a corner booth nursing
a beer. I slid into the booth across from him. I barely said hello
before a waitress appeared to take my order.
    "Ice tea, no lemon," I said out of
habit.
    July or December, I ordered ice tea without
a second thought. Ryan drank, so I didn't. One of those husband and
wife compromise things. Even though my eighteen-year marriage was
over, I hadn't quite come to terms with the idea that I didn't have
to plan my life around his anymore.
    I declined anything off the Happy Hour menu.
This wasn't a social visit. I don't conduct business over a plate
of nachos or mozzarella sticks.
    Jimmy had peeled most of the label off his
bottle of beer while he waited for me. He'd also ignored the
chilled glass mug and was drinking directly from the bottle. More
than half the beer was gone.
    I didn't wait for my ice tea to get down to
business. I was tired and my head hurt, and all I really wanted to
do was get home to my daughter.
    "So," I said. "Want to tell me what's so
important