Bring the Heat Read Online Free PDF Page B

was going to be fine. Same with his friends. The day after the funeral, his house was quiet for once. Austin was still on family leave, a good idea anyway because of the investigation. His detectives were chasing leads, though they called frequently to check on him.
    And, inevitably, in the silence that followed, reality set in. Then the true darkness descended.
    He should call a Realtor, put his and Ashley’s house on the market. Get it cleaned out. But he couldn’t bring himself to take that final step. Instead he went to the liquor store and bought a variety of painkillers in variously colored bottles.
    At his rented non-home, he parked himself on the couch, set his bottles on the coffee table, and poured himself a glass of whiskey. It burned all the way down, but left a pleasant fog in its wake that he liked, a lot. So much that the second one went down even better. And the third.
    If you hadn’t left them, this never would’ve happened!
    His brain wouldn’t shut down. Even though his team wouldn’t allow him into his house, he’d worked enough crime scenes to know what had happened. To Ashley and his innocent son.
    When the next bottle was done, he stared at it blearily, head swimming. Should he go to bed now? Sure, not that he’d sleep.
    There were more bottles for tomorrow, and the day after that.
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    He woke up on a hard surface. His body hurt all over. He pushed up, tried to stand. His legs were jelly and he nearly fell. He was on the floor? Where?
    Holding on to the wall, he managed to stay vertical, just barely. His brain felt like it was on a roller coaster and nothing made sense. A dangerous rumble in his stomach alerted him that he was going to be sick, and he stumbled faster.
    He’d no sooner made it to the toilet and fell to his knees than he lost what little was in his stomach. He heaved again and again until he thought the lining inside him must be raw and bleeding.
    No liquor in the world was enough to dull the pain. He’d failed his family. His son.
    They were dead because he hadn’t been there to protect them.
    End this. End the agony
.
    Staggering out, he weaved down the hallway. His vision doubled. Tripled. His foot connected with something and he lost his balance. Fell headlong into the endtable, taking out the glass hurricane lamp with him. It shattered, but he hardly felt anything. Looking down, he saw crimson on his arm. A river of blood flowing from the nasty gash.
    Ignoring it, he crawled around the table. A mess of empty bottles was strewn everywhere and he knocked them aside, scattering them in search of one that was still full. It took some time, but finally he wrapped his fingers around a bottle of something clear. Vodka? He was so far gone he couldn’t read the label.
    After fumbling several times, he got the top open. Tilted his head back and drank deeply. Somewhere in the distance he heard his cell phone ring, but ignored it. Didn’t matter. Nothing did.
    Gradually his arm became heavy. Still, he was a little surprised when the bottle fell from his grasp to land with a
thunk
onto the floor, and his body went limp. Somehow he found himself lying on his side, unable to move. To do anything but listen to the thump of his slowing heartbeat.
    So sorry, baby boy. Daddy’s sorry . . .
    A tear trickled from the corner of his eye, ran across the bridge of his nose.
    Then the pain finally, finally faded to nothing.
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    Laura paced her kitchen, coffee mug in hand.
    She was getting worried. The funeral two days earlier had been just about as bad as it got. From the weight of the horrible tragedy right down to the flared tempers and unjust blame leveled on Austin’s head.
    She’d given the captain plenty of space, butsomething told her he could use a friend. A couple of her own friends knew the torch she carried for the man and might tease her for