Lethal Exposure Read Online Free

this was his only option to meet Trish at the Fox River Medical Center the following morning.
    June Atwood had been happy to give him a few days leave, personal leave, since this case wasn’t under his jurisdiction. Also, according to Trish— Patrice , he reminded himself—an FBI team was already investigating an unrelated case, some sort of explosion near the particle accelerator, and he didn’t want to step on any toes. Some agents got touchy over their turf, so he had made a quick call to let them know he was coming.
    Ben Goldfarb, Craig’s partner and designated alternate for his caseload, was set to return from Washington today, but Craig had arranged for him to stop off at O’Hare on the way. Though Goldfarb hadn’t seen his wife Julene and the girls for two weeks, he agreed to an extra day or two in Chicago, his old stomping grounds. Craig expected he and Goldfarb could meet with Trish and take care of her questions in a minimal amount of time.
    “Trish LeCroix’s involved in a murder case, and you’re going out to help?” Goldfarb had sounded astonished. “Why would you want to do that?”
    Defensively, Craig said, “It’s not like she’s the wicked ex-wife or anything. We’re still really good friends.”
    “Oh sure, that’s why you talk about her all the time and write her letters every week,” Goldfarb said. “But if you need me, I’ll be there.” The truth was, though the short, curly-haired agent was a top-notch investigator, Craig also wanted him there for moral support.
    After getting an armed boarding pass at the airline’s counter, Craig had boarded the flight well before the First Class passengers, took his new Sig-Sauer out of his holster and had placed it in his bag stowed under his feet. Now, the flight played a film, one of the summer’s popular children’s features; Craig could not fathom why the airline would play a children’s movie from one o’clock to three o’clock in the morning, when any self-respecting parent would have made sure a child was deeply asleep.
    Craig dozed off and on, cramped in his seat with an airline blanket wrapped around him. He had stored his suit jacket in the overhead bin to keep from looking disheveled in the morning. He tried to read a few of his science magazines on the way, but had trouble concentrating.
    Craig chased dreams and memories that had been lurking beneath his subconscious, visions of a saucy, dark-haired Trish as they went to movies together, or walked up the steep streets in San Francisco’s Chinatown looking at bizarre trinkets. Trish never liked to buy, but she had a voracious appetite for window shopping. When she did want to purchase something, she went only to the best of stores, never to a street vendor.
    Overlaid on those dreams, came other memories. Memories of Paige Mitchell, who was laughing and easy to talk to, always ready with conversation. Dreams tumbled together as they went swimming in the cold Livermore Lab pool, as they met at King Authur’s Buffet at the Excalibur Casino in Las Vegas, and as they discussed cases over microbrewed beers.
    Craig struggled back to full wakefulness as the airplane began to descend. Paige and Trish both in the same place—Fermilab was going to be interesting all right. . . .
    Barely awake at the crack of dawn, he fought his way along the jetway, trying not to bump too many bleary-eyed passengers. Carrying his briefcase in one hand and his garment bag in the other, Craig spotted Goldfarb immediately.
    The shorter agent grinned, his curly hair tousled as it always was. “Welcome to the Windy City, Craig,” Goldfarb said, “City of the Big Shoulders, and all those tourist clichés.” He cradled a full cup of Starbuck’s coffee in his hand as he tossed an empty one into a trash can. Craig wondered how many the other agent had already gulped while waiting. He seemed unconscionably full of energy for such an early hour.
    Goldfarb took Craig’s garment bag with his free hand as he