Cold Death by Mary Stone (best e reader for android TXT) 📕

“Perfect.” O’Reilly shot him a quick salute. “You out of here?”

“Yeah. Gotta get my ass home before I turn into a pumpkin.”

“Too late for that.” Willis snickered after Fortis as he headed for the corridor. Fortis flashed them the middle finger, and their laughter followed him into the hall.

He considered the stairs before pressing the elevator button. Tomorrow. He’d start taking the stairs tomorrow. Right now, he just wanted to get home and ease his aching muscles under a hot shower. Too much sitting. That was his problem. That, and too many damned reports to type up, along with all the bullshit meetings. Time kept marching on, and unless Fortis did something about it, he’d start accruing more aches and pains and keep getting slower.

He hated the notion of giving up his family here, but one day, he’d have to think about retirement.

Fortis yawned as the elevator dinged and the doors slid open. One day, but not any time soon. Not at his age. He was still a few years away from the big five-oh. That joke with Chief Johnson earlier about stealing his job had been just that, a joke.

Fortis pushed the button for the lobby and debated calling his kids. Hearing their voices always lifted his spirits, even though he couldn’t believe how fast they were growing. Eddie was nine, and his baby girl was almost a teenager.

He still remembered the day they’d brought her home from the hospital, bald and toothless, with an angry red face and the softest skin. Forever ago now, but some moments, it seemed like only a week had passed.

Fortis reached for the phone in his pocket but stopped short of pulling the device out. Yeah, the kids were great, but calling them meant talking to his wife. He wasn’t in the mood for Marie to rake him over the coals about signing the stinkin’ divorce papers. Not tonight, and if he had his way, not ever.

Sure, he and the old lady had their fair share of problems, but so what? Name him one marriage that didn’t. Every last person he knew, detective or otherwise, had struggled at some point.

And okay, so a lot of police officers’ marriages went bust, but he didn’t care. His Marie was different. Special. The best damn thing that ever happened to him, even if he hadn’t always been the best at conveying that feeling.

The hell if he was giving her up without a fight.

Flowers. Maybe he’d grab some flowers and run by to see her as a way of showing her his appreciation.

Although, deep down, Fortis knew what she’d really appreciate was him picking a different career. Retirement was out of the question, but there was always the private sector. Security, or a P.I. Some of the guys who’d retired a few years ago were raking it in now.

The elevator dinged its arrival to the first floor. As Fortis exited, he tried to picture himself as a private dick. Hiding in the bushes while he snapped photos of cheating spouses through grimy windows or hunting down scumbags to help put them behind bars. Making his own hours, picking and choosing the cases he accepted. He could wear one of those fedoras, kick his legs up on his desk, and wait for a leggy blonde with a mystery to sashay in.

“Is Detective Kline in?”

The hourglass blonde in the tight red dress fizzled away as Fortis neared the man who’d asked the question. The stranger stood in front of the front desk, wearing a baggy gray sweatshirt and a black knit beanie on his head.

“I’m sorry, she’s gone home for the day, but I’m happy to take a message.”

Fortis slowed his pace. His gaze shifted from Loretta, the night clerk who sat behind the desk with a polite smile on her face, back to the stranger.

“No, I won’t put you through the trouble. It’s not an emergency. I merely stumbled across some information on an old case the detective was working.” The man sidled closer to the desk and flashed Loretta a smile. “I don’t suppose you could tell me when she’ll be back in? Or perhaps share an email address?”

The man’s face didn’t look familiar, and yet, something about him didn’t sit right with Fortis. His gut insisted that he was missing something.

Fortis never ignored his gut. When he’d been a rookie, back in the dark ages, his first boss had pulled Fortis aside and told him a story about how his dad’s old partner had ignored his gut once and ended up with a bullet to the head. The grizzled old veteran had glowered down at Fortis when he’d growled, “Ignoring gut instincts is how good cops die.”

In all his years on the force, Fortis had never forgotten that lesson. He wasn’t about to start now.

He strode up to the desk, positioning his body between the stranger and Loretta. “I was on my way out and overheard you asking our desk clerk about Detective Kline. I’m her direct superior, Lead Homicide Detective Fortis, and I’ll be happy to take that information on the old case down and pass it along.”

He studied the stranger’s reaction for any hint of emotion, but apart from a brief tightening of the man’s jaw over the interruption, his pleasant expression never changed.

Despite that, the hairs rose on the nape of Fortis’s neck. Smooth. This guy was smooth.

In his world, the slickest people were usually the ones with the most to hide.

“Thank you, Detective Fortis. How very helpful of you. I’m sure Detective Kline appreciates having such a conscientious boss.”

Was this asshole fucking with him? Fortis narrowed his eyes, but the man’s body language gave nothing away. The smile never left his face, and without anything concrete to go on, Fortis decided to drop it. The guy had a weird way of talking, but maybe he’d been educated at one of those fancy-schmancy schools abroad.

In that same smooth manner, the man