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

Clay bit back a sharp reply and gave the waitress a chance to elaborate. Easy, you need her to open up, and jumping in to defend Caraleigh will do the opposite. Pretend this is like any other investigation, and you’re asking about a stranger.

The problem was, his heart knew better.

When the waitress didn’t offer any additional explanation, he prodded. “Let me make sure I’ve got this right. The only reason Caraleigh moved out is because you didn’t see eye to eye on musical tastes and flirting?”

The waitress hooked her thumbs into her pockets and adopted a belligerent pose. “That, and a bunch of other little things. It all just added up until we had a big blowout. I just couldn’t deal with all of her nitpicky bullshit demands anymore, so I told her she needed to find a new place to crash.” She shrugged. “After that night, she never showed up at work again.”

Clay’s temper flared. Training took over, and he turned his focus inward and worked on controlling his breathing. Act professionally. Professionals don’t take asshole witnesses personally.

His inhalation rasped in his ears while his heart disagreed.

Screw professional. This jerk kicked Caraleigh to the streets.

With his own inner debate raging, Clay forgot all about Luke until his chair screeched back. Cheeks flushed, Luke sprang to his feet and planted them wide, his entire stance combative. “It’s okay not to like the same things as other people! Everyone is different! Why did you have to kick her out? Why?”

Oh boy.

Clay winced at Luke’s volume. Heads turned, both drinkers and staff alike. Clay jumped up and clapped a soothing hand on Luke’s shoulder. Luke jerked away like the touch burned. His hands balled into fists, and his entire face was now a mottled, angry red.

The waitress sidled back a step.

Clay scooted between Luke and the woman. Wouldn’t be the first time he’d used his body as a buffer. “Easy, buddy. I know this is upsetting but yelling at the waitress won’t bring Caraleigh back.”

His attempt at damage control came too late. A square-shouldered bartender with close-cropped hair and a goatee was already striding up. He folded his arms, causing a pair of brawny, tattooed biceps to bulge from beneath the sleeves of a black t-shirt. “Everything okay over here?”

He directed the question at the waitress.

She flashed him a grateful smile. “Thanks, Jack, I’m good. I think they were just leaving.”

Jack grunted before studying Clay and Luke through narrowed eyes. “You heard her. It’s time for you two to head toward that door.”

Clay lifted his hands, palms out. “Don’t worry, we’re leaving now.”

For a tense moment, Luke planted his feet and acted like he’d refuse to budge.

“Come on, Luke. If we want to find Caraleigh, we need to leave.”

The other man flinched when Clay grabbed his forearm but didn’t resist being led across the sticky floor. More heads turned, briefly tracking their progress toward the exit before returning to their booze. This likely wasn’t the first time they’d watched patrons get ejected from this particular dive, and he doubted it would be the last.

“You know, it’s not my fault Cara was a weirdo!”

The waitress’s parting shot caught them right at the door. Clay stiffened but didn’t deviate from the goal. His main concern was getting Luke outside before he melted down or the bartender called the cops.

He ushered Luke through the exit, welcoming the relief that flooded his body when the door clicked shut behind them. The fresh, chilled air was soothing after the fermented stench of the bar. He stayed close to Luke, who was stomping on the asphalt and flapping his hands.

“It’s not okay! It’s not okay!” The other man repeated the same accusation as he stormed around in tight circles, his face scrunched up like he was close to tears.

Watching him vent his frustration in the parking lot set off that familiar ping in Clay’s gut again. He’d witnessed Caraleigh go through similar meltdowns when she was younger. Just like with Luke, the trigger was usually sensory overload or when her feelings grew too big to handle.

“I can see that you’re upset, Luke, and I understand. What the waitress told us was really upsetting, wasn’t it?” Clay vocalized the question in a calm, soothing voice.

When Luke didn’t respond the first time, he repeated himself. He remembered times with Caraleigh when he’d needed to repeat himself five or even six times before she was calm enough to focus. No guarantees that he’d be able to get through to Luke at all, but he figured a little validation and empathy couldn’t hurt.

“Yes! It wasn’t okay.”

Progress. Luke was still stomping and flapping, but at least he’d responded.

A man exited his car and cut across the parking lot, giving them a wide berth. Clay met his wide-eyed gaze without a hint of embarrassment. The stranger shook his head in disgust before disappearing inside.

Clay flipped him the bird before turning back to Luke. Same shit used to happen with his sister all the time. Let them judge. The only thing he cared about was making sure Luke was okay. “Trust me, I get it. I was hoping the waitress would have more information, so I’m really disappointed too, and sad for Caraleigh. I keep thinking of how lonely she must have felt, being all on her own and then getting kicked out of the apartment like that.”

After a few seconds, the stomping slowed. “Really lonely and scared. I’m scared.” Luke shivered and flapped his hands harder.

“Scared for Caraleigh?”

Luke stood still long enough to nod, his expression solemn. “Yes. I’ve heard that bad things can happen to people who live outside because they don’t have anywhere indoors to stay. Especially young people. I don’t want bad things to have happened to Caraleigh.”

“I hear you. I don’t want bad things to have happened to Caraleigh, either. But as of now, we have no reason to believe that they did, okay?”

Luke’s chin quivered. “But if bad things happened to her, it’s my