Hold of the Bone Read Online Free Page A

Internet about what can go wrong during delivery and nothing about how often it goes right.”
    Recalling Caroline’s steady presence throughout her labor, Frank says, “She’s lucky to have you.”
    â€œWhat sort of case did you get?”
    â€œKid on an excavator dug up an old body. Not much to work with. Be a bitch to close. Plus Lewis’ partner’s an idiot.”
    â€œTatum?”
    â€œYeah. I’m on my way to check on him. It’s cops like Tatum that make me want to turn my badge in.”
    She considers telling Caroline about Marguerite but doesn’t know how to begin explaining what even she doesn’t understand.
    Caroline says, “I think a movie’s out, but I shouldn’t be too late, if you want to spend the night. We could at least have the morning together.”
    The offer isn’t wildly tempting, but with nothing better to do Frank agrees. After she hangs up she calls Lewis back.
    â€œDamn, LT, what up? You gonna check in every ten minutes, you may as well come out and babysit the coroner your own self.”
    â€œEasy, girl. It’s gonna be a long night and I was gonna send Sleeping Beauty back with some food. What do you want?”
    â€œAh, you sweet,” Lewis relents, “but I ain’t hungry.”
    â€œWhat?” Frank tries to think if she’s ever heard Cheryl refuse food. “I was gonna have him get you a wet burrito.”
    â€œNah, I’m good. But you know what? Tell him go by Takami’s and pick me up a miso soup and side a rice. Tell him don’t forget the damn spoon.”
    Frank teases, “You on a diet, girl?”
    â€œNah. Just not that hungry.”
    Frank shakes her head, surprised at the first. She pulls into the Figueroa parking lot and takes the steps to the squad room two at a time. Tatum actually appears to be working and she asks over his shoulder, “Whatcha got?”
    They peer at tax rolls on his monitor.
    â€œThe address goes back to 1968. It’s changed hands four times since then.”
    Frank grunts. “Ain’t no longevity in the ’hood.”
    She fishes money from the wallet in her pocket. “Run over to Takami’s and get Lewis some miso soup and a side of rice. Bring me the change. And don’t forget the spoon.”
    â€œWhat about me?”
    Walking into her office, she asks over her shoulder, “What about you?”
    Tatum doesn’t answer and she figures he is either waving his middle finger or juggling his crotch at her. Frank stands next to her scarred old desk, the retirement forms squared primly on the corner. She rests a hand on them, listening to Tatum stomp out. She returns to the quiet squad room and pauses at his desk. It was Bobby’s before he promoted out to West Hollywood. She looks around the fusty room. Ghosts waft in the air like dust motes.
    Noah, her best friend, best partner. Dead way too soon.
    Gough. Nook. Taquito. Good old boys, all retired.
    Murderous Ike Zabbo. Dead, too. No loss there.
    Jill Denton, “Fire Truck.” Red hair, chronically late, always screaming around the corner like she was on her way to a three-alarm.
    Belligerent, drunken Johnnie Briggs. There were only three ways out for a hopeless alcoholic like Johnnie—hospitals, institutions, or death. Johnnie had chosen the latter, wrapping his car around an abutment on the 101. She always wondered if it had been deliberate.
    Then there was Darcy. Demoted to Frank’s squad for decking his last captain, he became not only an invaluable detective but friend as well.
    She wishes he were here. He’d know what Marguerite was talking about. She thinks about calling, but doesn’t want to bother him. She checks that the coffee pot is emptied and clean, studies wanted sheets posted on the bulletin board. Faces of Latino men, a couple black males, one woman, peek between administrative memos, posters for sexual harassment, workplace