An Eye for Danger Read Online Free

couldn't see. The detective crouched beside me, his hand between my shoulder blades. "Just breathe, Julie. Are you on any medications, any drugs?"
    "No. For God's sake, no." But maybe I'd rethink those antidepressants. "Just a little winded."
    Blood pulsed down my arms and legs, and I swallowed the coffee remnants seeping into my mouth. Little did the detective know the sight of his shoes reminded me I wanted to throw up, a gift that probably wouldn't match his fashion sense, so I aimed my sights on the horizon, where a billowing blue windbreaker hurried across the lawn.
    "How about family, someone I can call for you."
    "No. Nobody," I said, lowering my gaze.
    When the young man neared, I could see a toolbox twice his width squeezed under his stick arm and that his NYPD baseball cap was too big for his shaved, bony skull. An infant's cough could knock him over.
    The detective spoke in cooling tones now that he had an audience. "Officer Houston will stay with you. He'll collect a little evidence, and then he'll find an officer to drive you to the station for a full interview. You okay without me?"
    "I'm sure I'll manage." I must have looked shocked at Detective McCarthy's concern, but what I wanted was for him to remove his hand from my elbow.
    "You just seem a little shaky. Wouldn't want you to think I was abandoning you."
    "I said I'm fine, Detective."
    "Like the lady said." With a nod, he released me to Houston's care, blocking the sun as he rose. "This is Houston's first field assignment, so please be patient. And please, call me Stone." He offered one of those arrogant two-finger salutes before he jogged up the hill.
    Immediately I regretted my gruff manners. Attentive, authoritative, safe. Handsome. Only an idiot of a single, heterosexual woman would bark at such a man.
    Houston turned his back to me, revealing the gold CSU letters on his windbreaker as he crouched over the wide jaws of his toolbox. Crime Scene Unit, I assumed. Keeping his distance, he stared sheepishly at Max, who'd splayed on the lawn, panting and wagging his tail so it swept over the short, icy grass.
    "He's not going to bite you," I said.
    "I'm more of a cat person," Houston whispered, as if Max would attack him over the slight. He eyed Max while he quietly shook out a clear-plastic bag, the kind I used for last-night's lasagna leftovers. "Your shoes first, if that's okay with him."
    A sharp whistle came from above. Stone waved from the crest of the hill and spoke into his brick, his voice coming over Houston's radio a microsecond later. "Forget collection, Houston. Send her up. ASAP."
    Houston sighed at his open toolbox, like he was missing a chance to play with toys.
    "Duty calls." I smiled at him, eager to escape his shrinking violet persona, and headed up the hill, calling Max to my side.
    At the top of Great Hill, I choked back the nagging tension to run home and kept moving toward the crime scene. If I could help capture the thugs, perhaps no one else would get hurt. And that was a sacrifice, if not a repayment, worth making.
    I found Stone hunkered above the puddle, pivoting his head as he followed the trail of muddy prints—the echoes of my feet and Max's paws trailing blood—then turning his head to view the nearby mound of leaves. He mumbled to Petosa something about Goliath, and I laughed to myself to think of Bear Man's latest moniker.
    After several minutes of his silent pondering, Stone turned and nodded to me, clearly aware I'd been waiting. "I need you to show us what you saw, Miss Larson. If you'll step this way. Secure the dog, please." He looked me over, a mix of pleasure and criticism showing in his face. "I assume you have a leash."
    Biting my lip, I shrugged. He shook his head and glanced to Petosa, clearly annoyed but hopefully too preoccupied with his crime scene to write me a fat ticket. From his pocket he pulled blue booties, the kind they use in hospitals and Army medic tents that weren't already soaked in blood.
    "Can't