Savage Echoes (The Nickie Savage Series, Short Story Prequel) Read Online Free

fooling? It was an act of protection, not warmth. "I'll take the front," she said. "You take the back. We're just checking it out. If we see anything suspicious, I call for backup."
    She didn't expect an answer from him. Duncan Reed's words were few and far between. He crossed the highway and headed for the other side.
    Water. It wasn't deafening, but she could hear it. The incline had the same dry grasses, poking her legs as she maneuvered the dirt. She slid and caught herself by sitting. Damned boots. As she sat for a moment, she looked up. And squinted. Attached to the side of the bridge was a dish. A Dish Network dish. As she continued down the hill, she looked around, making sure she hadn't missed a home nearby.
    The water ran continuously but was shallow enough that she could walk along the side without wading. The chill from the running water made her think of Serena.
    She'd barely turned the corner when her feet were swept out from under her. She must have hit her head on the concrete because she saw stars as she realized she was lying partially in the frigid water.
    "This is my home!" a deep voice screamed as a heavy form landed on her waist.
    Stammering, she squirmed as a foul-smelling hand covered her face.
    Dizziness clouded her vision, but she had enough sense to understand if the man on top of her wanted to hurt her, he would have done it already.
    When her ears stopped ringing, she heard loud splashes. She regained focus just as the man lifted from her like a crane had hooked his back and flung him through the air.
    Oh crap, Duncan. She winced at the thought of his temper.
    It was like watching a short fight between rabid dogs. "Duncan, stop!" Rarely did Duncan lose control, but the few times he had were enough to last her a lifetime.
    He straddled the man. One of his hands twisted the center of the man's shirt while the other cocked back in a fist.
    Crawling to them, she held out her hand. "Duncan," she whispered.
    She could see the wheels turning in his head as his chest rose and fell in rapid succession.
    Defiantly, the man jutted his face toward Duncan. "My home," he repeated.
    Duncan growled and lifted from him.
    She was wet and cold and her head hurt like hell. "We don't want your home," she said. "We're looking for a girl, a young girl." Out of her back pocket, she pulled a soggy picture of Serena Flats and held it out.
    He 'humphed' and stood. Taking the picture, he held it an arm's length away, then squinted. Still not ready to stand, she stuck her hand in the inside pocket of her jacket and took out a pair of reading glasses.
    When she held out the glasses for him, he hesitated. "I don't like cops." He moved his glare to Duncan.
    "I'm not a cop," Duncan grunted like it was a four-letter word. How could that make her smile at a time like this?
    "I don't like them either some days," she said. "Put the glasses on, will you?"
    He did so, turned his back to her and hunched over the photo. "My home. I don't like cops," he repeated. Then, she heard him mumble, "I have a daughter." He held the picture out behind him, leaving his back to her. "Never seen this one. Only drifters down here. I don't like cops." His head twitched as he walked toward his home .
    His home consisted of some blankets and a few piles of junk piled in one of the tubes that drained into the underpass. Sure enough, there was the TV. How did he get power? What did he do when there was a hard rain?
    "Thank you for your time." And the wet clothes and the lump on the head. "I'm sorry I startled you. I'm not going to report this." She dug back into her jacket and leafed through some business cards. Choosing the one for the homeless shelter, she held it out to him. "You need a place to stay when a hard rain comes."
    He took it but not without reminding her that this was his home and that he didn't like cops.
    "We've got two more stops." Duncan's voice came from the other end of the tunnel. He was squatting down, sifting through some gravel with