The Last Time She Saw Him Read Online Free

of the moment as I chase the story, but once it’s written, once I’m alone, their stories, their faces always come back to me. They never let go. Especially when the victim is a child.
    I drop on the broken front step of the house and wait for Navarro as a steady stream of neighborhood gang-bangers drives by, idling curiously until they catch sight of police officers filtering in and out of the crime scene.
    “I thought you would put up more of a fight.”
    Navarro stands in the doorway, his tall and muscular frame almost filling it up. Navarro is hardcore Jersey, even though it’s been at least fifteen years since he moved from his hometown of Newark. Navarro runs his fingers through his thick shock of dark hair and gives me a nod.
    “Didn’t feel much like fighting today. That’s Donny Boyner in there, right?” I ask.
    “Pending ID from his grandma, yes. Come on. Let’s take a walk to your car.”
    The police know Navarro is my best source, but he at least wants to appear discreet, so I wait to drill him for information until we have some privacy. He opens my driver-side door, and I slide across the front seat of my SUV. I roll down the window and Navarro leans inside.
    “What can you tell me?” I ask.
    “Off the record or on?”
    “Both. Let’s start with off for background, and then we’ll take it from there. What do you think happened?”
    “We found the kid’s backpack tossed in a Dumpster two blocks from here. We think whoever took Donny lured him into a car on the way to school. Probably someone he knew. There were no defense wounds or bruising, which means he didn’t try to get away. Whoever did this most likely killed him somewhere else and then dumped the body. Pending an autopsy, it looks like he drowned.”
    “Drowned?”
    “Yeah, I know, that’s a new one. We’re checking every public swimming pool in the city to see if anyone saw Donny, but more likely, he was probably killed in someone’s home.”
    Navarro’s gaze moves down to the steering wheel, which I suddenly realize I am holding in a death grip. Embarrassed I’ve lost my poker face, I quickly drop my hands in my lap. When my hands start to tremble, I shove them under my legs so Navarro won’t notice. But my attempt at a last-minute save is too late.
    “You all right?” Navarro asks, his rough voice softening to a raspy hum. “Anytime the victim is a kid, it’s hard, even on us.”
    “I’m fine,” I answer and try to redirect his attention elsewhere. “You’re not going to see me around for a while. I’m taking some time off. I’m going to the lake house for the summer with the boys.”
    “Your place in Decremer?”
    “Yes. There’s a story I need to work on too.”
    “Like a freelance assignment?”
    “Something like that.”
    “If you get in a jam, let me know. Just because you’re not officially on the beat doesn’t mean you can’t call me if you need some help,” Navarro says.
    Navarro’s deep-set hazel eyes fixate on my face for a beat too long.
    “Why don’t you call me after you file your story? I’ll be here for a while, but maybe we could meet up later and grab something to eat. I remember you used to like that hole-in-the-wall diner that was open all night over in Greektown.”
    “You’ve got a good memory. I forgot about that place,” I answer. “Thanks, but I need to get back home to the kids when I’m done.”
    “Just a friendly offer.”
    “I didn’t think anything otherwise,” I answer.
    “Fine then. Just take care of yourself, Gooden,” Navarro says. He raps hard on my car’s roof with his knuckles and heads back inside the house to the crime scene and the little boy who will never get the chance to grow up.
    I decide to file my last story from my home in Rochester Hills. I know Primo will be pissed off, but I don’t care. I look off into the distance at the Detroit skyline. Ribbons of pink and orange clouds hang low on the horizon, looking bright and hopeful as they