Side Effects: An FBI Psychological Thriller Read Online Free Page B

long.”
    “Take your time…” Morris scanned the full perimeter of the crime scene and gave an admiring little nod Detective Sill couldn’t miss. “Looks like you guys could use a break.”
    “Got that right,” Detective Sill said. “Nice to meet you both. Let us know if you find anything, right?”
    “Absolutely.”
    Detective Sill rejoined the second detective. The two of them spoke in a huddle for a minute, the second detective shooting me, not Morris, a quick glance as he listened to Detective Sill.
    When they were gone I asked Morris: “Your lips feeling chapped?”
    “There’s a difference between kissing ass and greasing the wheels.”
    “Since when do we have to grease local wheels?”
    “You gonna make me come up with a whole rusty cog in the machine analogy? The days of federal and local being all tight-lipped to one another are pretty much over, but it still happens, you know that. I’d rather go in chummy. If they insist on being assholes and pocketing leads in order to get the collar, then we throw our weight around. That okay with you?”
    “You see the way that other detective looked at me?”
    “Probably has a thing for annoying redheads.”
    “Or maybe they’re wondering just what the hell constitutes a consultant for this kind of thing.”
    “Better I tell them you’re an agent currently on bereavement? I’m sure that wouldn’t cause a stir at their next briefing.”
    “‘ Looks like you guys could use a break ’,” I mocked.
    Morris shook his head and looked down into the grave. I bit back a smirk and looked down too. It felt good to be out in the field. Maybe it was the drug kicking in, or maybe it was because I was keeping my head busy, not allowing it to sit in bed for days at a time ruminating about Christopher, feeling as though I might literally succumb to heartache.
    Morris glanced over at me as I was looking down. Dusk was still a good twenty or so minutes away, so I imagine he was using the light to get a good read on my face, a blended gaze of both professional and personal curiosity; he’d seen me take the drug on the drive here, and I think he was now studying me to see if and how I was going to pull a sudden Houdini out of my butt.
    “Can I help you?” I said, my eyes still on the grave.
    He didn’t seem to care I’d noticed him staring. “Anything?” he asked.
    “Doesn’t work like that, Tim.”
    “So how does it work, exactly?”
    “If I knew, we’d have the guy already. Just let me do my thing, all right?”
    Morris turned and started surveying the crime scene on his own, periodically thumbing through the file.
    My thing, I thought. Whatever the hell that is.
    I remained at the grave and closed my eyes. I took a deep breath through my nose and let it out slowly through my mouth.
    Just listen, smell, and feel. Open your eyes and look too. No, keep them closed for now. Keep still. Whenever it’s happened before you never had to do anything; everything presented itself. Just stand here and be still. Let it happen.
    Be still…
    Still…
    Sti—
    Fire shot up my nose. I recoiled and spun, my eyes watering instantly.
    Morris was immediately at my side, rubbing my back and consoling me. “You all right? You all right?”
    I nodded and stood upright, wiping the tears from my eyes. My nostrils burned.
    “What is it?” Morris insisted.
    “Alcohol,” I said. “Isopropyl alcohol. It feels like I just snorted it.”
    “Isoprop—rubbing alcohol?”
    I nodded, still wiping my eyes, still massaging my nose.
    Morris started flipping through the file, silently mouthing the words isopropyl alcohol over and over as he did so.
    I pushed the file out of his face and placed my hand on his chest. “Take my hand,” I said.
    “What?”
    I closed my eyes. “Take my hand. Go where I say, and make sure I don’t trip on anything.”
    I could feel the uncertainty in his grip, and for a moment I thought he was going to pull away and ask more questions. Instead, he did