Hunt and Prey (Kelsey's Burden Series Book 8) by Kaylie Hunter (novels to read for beginners txt) 📕

face the glass, watching the uniforms move about in a hushed frenzy. “Where does the case stand?” I asked Maggie without turning around.

“The US Attorney’s office will exhaust all efforts to keep the case alive, but unless we can prove the drug ring were behind killing her, the bad guys will likely walk.”

“Did Greg find any DNA last night?” Quille asked.

“I don’t know, but that case is about that contract I told you about,” I said, looking over my shoulder to give Quille a pointed look. “Did the team go back to Roseline’s with a black light?”

“Yeah,” Quille said, digging out a file from under a ten-inch stack. “Haven’t had a chance to read it yet.” Something on the other side of the glass caught Quille’s attention. “Gibson! Get your ass in here!”

“Yes, sir,” Gibson said, hurrying to the doorway.

“What have you got on the double homicide?”

“Nothing new yet, sir. I just got in the office.”

“I warned you,” I mumbled loud enough for him to hear.

“You’re off the case. Turn everything you have over to me and report to Riley. You’re on desk duty doing research for him until I say otherwise.”

“But sir, I—”

“Get out before I fire your ass!” Quille ordered.

“You better run, boy,” Maggie said, flashing her pearly whites. “Poppa bear is pissed.”

Gibson flushed but hurried away as if his life depended on it.

Quille opened the drawer of his desk and held up a badge. “I’m not going to ask you again.” He tossed the badge at me. “Stop by the counselor’s office and get your ass cleared for duty.”

“Damn it,” I grumbled, dropping the badge in my bag. “This isn’t a good idea, and you know it.”

“I need someone here who can help me control these idiots. And you’re it.”

“Fine.” I stomped into the workroom. Walking over to the assignment board, I re-assigned a few names. When I turned around, everyone had stopped working and was looking at the board. “Chop. Chop. I want updates on every case we have going.”

Each group brought over their files and filled me in. Most were on the right path, and I gave them the nod to continue. One had hit a dead end and I motioned to Maggie, handing her the file. “She’s a profiler,” I told the young detective to answer his unasked question. He followed Maggie over to a side table as she started reading the file.

Another detective had too many suspects and I reassigned Gibson to help with the background checks. When everyone had cleared out, I noticed the grieving mother standing near the conference room door, watching me with sad eyes. Beast sat her feet, leaning into her.

I walked across the room and faced her.

“Tell me someone’s working just as hard to find the man who shot my son.”

Detective Ford stood beside us, his head bending in defeat.

“We both know that witnesses don’t talk in your neighborhood. That makes solving cases like your son’s harder, but not impossible.”

Ford’s head flew up, a flicker of hope in his eyes.

“There are other methods… less conventional methods... that cops sometimes use to solve these types of crimes. I’ve made a call to someone who owes me a few favors. He’s not someone I trust, not even someone I respect, but he’s in a better position to find the person responsible.”

Her chin quivered. Beast whined and rubbed his head against her thigh. “I’m okay, boy,” she said, patting his head as she inhaled a shaky breath. “Thank you,” she said to me. “For doing what you can to find them.” She looked down at Beast. “And, for letting me borrow your dog. He’s been a champ.”

“I’m on my way downstairs to the counselor’s office. Why don’t you come with us? It will help.”

I didn’t wait for her to answer. I looped my arm through hers, leading her toward the elevator.

Chapter Eighteen

CHARLIE

Monday, 9:43 a.m.

Ford must’ve called downstairs and told them we were on our way. Marcie, the precinct’s shrink, met us at the door, handed me a piece of paper, and led the grieving woman into her inner sanctum. I looked at the piece of paper. It was a signed release to return to active duty. A post-it was stuck on top of it: We’ll chat later. Go get the bastards.

I dropped the release form off at the front desk and asked the officer to have someone run it up to HR before I had time to shoot anyone. He stood there confused, not sure how to react, just holding the form.

“She’s not kidding,” another officer laughed, taking the form. “I’ll take it over myself, Kid.”

“Thanks, Leland.” I waved over my shoulder as Beast followed me outside.

“Trying to ditch me?” Maggie asked as she hurried out the door after me.

I turned toward her and watched her happy facial features morph into an expression I’d seen on my cousin’s face more times than I could count. I didn’t think—just dove toward her—taking us both down.

A mess of arms and legs tangled together as we tumbled down the concrete stairs—bullets ricocheting over our heads.

Landing hard on the sidewalk, unknown hands pulled us around the base of the stairs and out of the line of fire. The shooting stopped as police officers emerged from every direction, flooding the block. Maggie and I remained on our backs amidst some shrubbery, both panting.

We looked at each other at the same time, but she was the first to speak. “Lucy… you’ve got some splainin to do…” She bombed on the accent from the iconic tv show, but it was close enough for me to catch the reference.

“It’s not my fault,” I said as a laugh escaped. “I seriously have no idea why someone’s trying to kill me.”

“We best get to work at figuring that