Stone Cold Read Online Free Page A

back on the job, the better. You’ve got my support if you think this will help him.’
    ‘It’ll help him,’ she said. ‘What’s at issue is whether he wants to help himself.’
    ***

4
    ‘This is the room,’ the duty officer gestured Kathryn toward a closed door marked Interview Room 1 . ‘Detective Griffin is waiting for you. Can I get you a coffee ma’am?’
    ‘I’m good, thanks,’ Kathryn smiled back.
    The officer turned and walked away down the corridor. Kathryn stared at the door in front of her. Get your act together. You’re here to help, so act like it. She took a deep breath and then pushed down on the handle and strode in.
    Bare walls. A brushed aluminium table bolted to a floor of grubby linoleum tiles. A single strip light, harsh and cold, set into the ceiling behind a cracked plastic cover that had been repaired with a strip of gaffer tape. Not the most inviting of rooms and hardly the best place to speak to a grieving man about such delicate matters.
    Detective Scott Griffin sat before her, a pair of clear blue eyes flicking up to meet hers. Thick brown hair framed a young face that was lined with world–weariness, the permanent late–night strain of law enforcement. Shoulders set, back straight. Ex–military, she reminded herself. Hands folded in his lap, a little too tightly to be natural. On edge. Uncomfortable.
    ‘Detective Griffin, I’m Kathryn Stone,’ she said as she closed the door behind her.
    ‘Pleasure, ma’am.’ A soft drawl, but no smile.
    ‘Texas?’
    ‘Odessa,’ came the reply, a faint glint of life in the blue orbs now.
    ‘You’re a long way from home, soldier.’
    ‘Army got me out and about. Long time ago now.’
    ‘Who are you trying to kid?’ she asked with an easy smile as she took a seat opposite Griffin. ‘Once a soldier…’
    Griffin managed a smile, sort of lop–sided where one side curled up and the other curled down.
    ‘You a local girl?’
    ‘No, I was raised in Nevada.’
    ‘Looks like we’re both a long way from home.’
    Kathryn retrieved from her bag a small file marked with Griffin’s name and opened it up.
    ‘How are you coping with the aftermath of the shooting incident?’
    A long silence filled the room before Griffin replied.
    ‘You don’t beat about the bush ma’am.’
    ‘I figured that you’re probably somebody who probably appreciates straight talking.’
    Griffin raised an eyebrow, the crooked smile still touching his features.
    ‘I guess. And in answer to your question, things are fine.’
    ‘Can you define fine for me detective?’
    ‘I don’t drink any more, if that’s what you mean.’
    ‘That’s what I mean,’ Kathryn agreed. ‘You’re married.’
    ‘Four years.’
    No more details. No elaboration. No mention of the wife’s name, although Kathryn already knew it of course. That could also just be straight talking, but she doubted it.
    ‘She coping okay?’
    ‘With what?’
    ‘With you.’
    ‘Should she be having a problem?’
    ‘No,’ Kathryn replied. ‘Detective, I could take this interview in all kinds of directions, but I prefer to just sound people out at a realistic level. Mind games and inferred psychology seem a waste of time to me. You’re a well–trained, upstanding officer and a patriot. If you want the bullshit version I can deal, or we can just cut to the chase and let me figure out how life really is for you and your family right now.’
    Griffin stared at her for a long moment, then leaned back as he exhaled noisily. It was like watching noxious fumes spill from a crippled body and then the first inhalation of clean air for months.
    ‘We’re working it out,’ he said finally. ‘One day at a time.’
    ‘Been having problems long?’
    Griffin stared at her again, probably wondering whether he could bullshit past her. A soft sigh as he apparently rejected the option, his eyes focused to infinity on the table top.
    ‘You don’t just walk away from a war, in any sense.’
    ‘I