Long Time Gone Read Online Free

once and widowed once,” I told him. “Other than that I’m doing fine.”
    “Kids?” he asked.
    “Two. Both married. One grandchild and another on the way.”
    “Deb and I never had any kids,” Fred said with a shrug. “For a long time my whole life was my job—property development. Then, about eight years ago, I had a wake-up-call heart attack. The doc told me to change my life. Lose weight and lose my job or lose my life. So I went to see a hypnotherapist. He helped me so much that now I am one.”
    As Fred spoke, he opened his briefcase and pulled out a frayed copy of the Ballard High School yearbook, The Shingle . Please don’t ask me why it’s called that. I have no idea.
    He opened the book to a page marked with a slip of paper. He passed the yearbook over to me, tapping one picture in particular with his finger. “Remember her?” he asked.
    I looked down and saw the picture of a girl—a girl with downcast eyes hidden behind thick glasses, no smile, and a sorrowful expression on her face.
    “Doesn’t ring a bell,” I said.
    Fred closed the yearbook, returned it to the briefcase, and closed the lid. “I’m not surprised. Bonnie Jean Dunleavy was two years behind us when we were in school, but she’s a friend of mine—a friend and a patient. She’s also the reason I’m here.”
    Glancing first at the open door, Fred looked back at me. “Do you mind?” he asked. With that he reached over and pushed the door shut. “It’s about a murder,” he said. “One we believe happened many years ago. I’m hoping you can tell me whether or not it really happened. This is a new experience for me—uncovering a crime like this from someone’s past—and I need to be really sure it’s the truth and not some little kid’s horrific fantasy.”
    “Look,” I said, “I’m not a regular homicide detective anymore. I work for the Washington State Attorney General’s office. I only work cases I’m told to work, and I doubt Ross Connors would look kindly on my going out and chasing after some cold-case homicide that may or may not have happened.”
    “It’s all right,” Fred assured me easily. “Somebody’s already squared it with Ross Connors. I’m sure it’ll be fine.”
    It sure as hell wasn’t fine with me. Ross Connors, the Washington State attorney general, happens to be my boss. He’s also a very political animal. The last thing I needed was to go messing around in a murder investigation that was connected to one of Ross’s cronies or to some big-time political contributor. Either one had almost limitless potential for career suicide.
    “Bonnie Jean was in town for a conference over the weekend,” Fred continued. “She stayed over last night on the slim chance that I might be able to set up a meeting with you today. This morning, in fact,” he added. “Whenever you can get away.”
    Talk about more nerve than a bad tooth! I was floored. Right about then I would have been happy for the return of the old pudgy Freddy Mac rather than his grown-up pushy and very cool counterpart.
    “Hang on,” I said. “I’ll have to check with my boss.”
    I left Fred sitting there beside my desk and went in search of Harry I. Ball. I more than half hoped he was still stuck in traffic. No such luck. He was talking on the phone when I popped my head into his office. “What is it?” he demanded, covering the mouthpiece.
    “I’ve got this guy in my office…”
    “I know, I know,” he grumbled. “The hypnotist guy. Word came down from on high about that. It’s your case, now get the hell out and do whatever needs to be done.” With that he waved me away.
    I returned to my office with my worst-case-scenario suspicions fully confirmed. Whoever was pulling Ross Connors’s string had influence out the kazoo.

CHAPTER 2
    W HEN I RETURNED to my office, Fred let me know that my surprise luncheon meeting—a surprise to me anyway—was scheduled at Equus, the upscale restaurant in downtown Bellevue’s