THE ALTER: A Psychological Crime Thriller Read Online Free

the point.
    “Are you crazy?” she said in a loud whisper, loud enough to attract the attention of those sitting a few desks away. She quickly scanned the room for observers, but did not notice Bret sitting at his desk and raising his eyes towards them then back at his files.             
    “Why the hell do you think I went through the trouble of finding you at home?” she whispered in a subdued but fiery tone. “I’m not even sure I can trust you anyway," she said as she turned and walked away.
    Ryan looked even more puzzled as he watched her leave. He could see Bret wearing a smirk with this head conveniently buried in paperwork. Ryan looked back at Ava as she disappeared from view then he walked back towards his desk.
    “You little devil," Bret laughed, wagging his finger at Ryan. “You like ‘em hot, don’t you?”
    “I don’t know what you are talking about,” Ryan answered.
    “Take my advice rookie, you can’t handle her. She’s nuts. Stay off the floor," he advised, burying his eyes back in paperwork.
    The chief’s office door swung open. “Mitchell. Wallace. You’re up," his voice bellowed across the room.
    “Thank God," Bret said, “I was starting to feel like I was in a nursing home.”
    After a briefing, the two made their way across town to respond to a distress call. Ryan couldn’t help but notice Bret’s enthusiasm, his thirst for adventure. Perhaps this was more like a craving for violence, Ryan thought. Then again, perhaps he was conditioned by the city.
    They pulled up in front of an apartment building in a depressed part of the city. Bret slammed the car door shut and headed for the entrance of the building that, like those around it, had suffered some neglect. His partner followed behind with a less zealous stride.
    A young boy ran up to them from behind. “Mister, wanna give me a dollar?” he asked trying to keep pace.
    "Get lost, kid," Bret answered without looking around.
    Ryan examined the boy’s appearance. He was dirty and his clothes were worn. Had it been in another part of the city, he would have assumed that he was homeless, but here he blended in.
    “So how about a quarter?” the boy persisted.
    “I said get the hell out of here," Bret demanded in a loud, annoyed tone, glancing at the child for the first time and the boy stopped.
    “Go home son," Ryan recommended.
    “You see that, Ryan?” Bret explained. “Those are the same ones who will be shooting at us in the next few years. They are the sons of junkies and they will be junkies. Don’t think for a second you can reason with them."
    "I saw Christina in your car!” the boy yelled from several feet behind.
    Bret spun quickly and the boy took off down the road. Bret turned and saw Ryan’s curiosity, but didn’t say a word and neither did Ryan. Perhaps some things were better left unsaid.
    They entered the apartment building and made their way a few floors up. They were still a few doors away when they heard a commotion.
    “This is the police. Open up!” Bret demanded, banging on the door.
    The commotion continued and they forced their way in. A young man sat in the opposite corner facing them with one arm wrapped around a terrified woman’s throat, while the other held a pistol to her head.
    “Luis?" Bret said in surprise as he lowered his gun.
    Ryan gave his partner a confused look, but maintained his aim.
    “What are you doing, son? What are you doing around these places anyway?” Bret asked.
    The young man seemed distraught with tears running down his face while at the same time fuming with a rage that made the detectives nervous. “I put this bitch though college and gave her my money. Now she wants to play me like a fool,” he lamented.
    “Come one man, she’s not worth it. This place is a dump. You’re heir to the throne. You should be mixing with high society and screwing supermodels. Please put the gun down,” Bret reasoned. Bret paused then began putting his own gun into its