Crash Lights and Sirens, Book 1 Read Online Free PDF

visitors except for when Alexandra gets it into her head to bring by food. It’s probably just as well. Nick gets antsy when people are over, protective like he wants to hold out both arms and shield the gutted walls from prying eyes. He’s hoping that feeling will go away after it’s finished.
    (“Do you even have a bed?” Taryn had asked last summer, her bare feet curling on the kitchen’s exposed subfloor. Everything smelled like smoke, even the hair between her legs.
    “Yeah,” he said, and lifted her to the counter.)
    At Home Depot he picks out a nice, bright tile, white with fissures that glow iridescent at the right angle. He’ll grout the backsplash first, work his way down. It’s boring work. He’s not very good at it yet either, which means he can’t concentrate on anything else. That suits Nick fine. He turns up the radio, shoves his sleeves to his elbows. Tries to clear his head. He takes a break halfway through for a sandwich and an Amstel, but for the most part he passes the afternoon unbothered by whatever ghosts live in this house. Atlas pads in as he’s washing the grout from under his nails, whining for a pee. He sulks when Nick doesn’t reach for the leash.
    Nick makes a face, nudging the dog toward the back door. “I worked all day, dummy,” he says, holding the screen open so Atlas can trot through. “The hell did you do?”
    His phone buzzes on the counter, insistent. There’s a message from Ioanna about the book club woman and also whether or not he’s coming to Stevie’s winter concert, plus a text from Falvey from half an hour ago. you working tonight?  
    Well. That’s an easy one. Nope , Nick tells her. Try Lynette for a ride.
    He opens the freezer to see if there’s anything in there that could possibly become dinner, has just come to the conclusion that he’s probably gonna need to order, when his phone buzzes again. no, I mean cause of that thing for Ortiz. you going?
    Huh. Nick scratches the back of his neck for a minute, considering. Ortiz works with them, a young guy from Lee with a pretty wife and a new baby with a heart defect. There’s a fundraiser for the kid at some strip mall sports bar tonight, a fact Nick had completely forgotten. He guesses he’s got no plans, unless you count another beer and the Bruins game on Channel 5.
    Thinking about it, he hedges. Then, making a face at himself even as he keys it in: you?
    The answer buzzes in immediately. yeah. Then two seconds later, no smiley faces to tell him where her head’s at, maybe i’ll see you there.
    So.
     
     
    Christ. Taryn flips the phone over in disgust so it’s sitting face-down in her lap, the back casing all scratched up from the time Mikey tried to glue a smiley face onto it. Only one of the craft store googly eyes is still stuck down.
    “Something wrong?” Emily asks, glancing up at the rearview. She doesn’t like looking away from the road a ton when she drives, Doc, jumpy enough that none of the other EMTs ever let her behind the wheel. A couple weeks ago, Taryn took her out to a back lot and tried to teach her how to drive stick. It was a disaster.
    Taryn shrugs. “Not really.” And fuck, there isn’t—it’s not like maybe I’ll see you is some horribly revealing confession or something. Taryn has no idea what her damage is. The single googly-eye spins round and round in her lap.
    “Is it your mom?” Doc asks, merging anxiously. Doc’s one of the only people from work who knows that things at the Falvey home are off, having once overheard a screaming match between Taryn and Jesse in the bathroom at Old Court. Or, at least, she overheard Taryn’s half—Jesse had phoned in a huff, pissed at being stuck on babysitting duty while Taryn was out with Pete. Taryn had had some very choice, very loud words for him about alcohol asphyxiation and the Department of Children and Families. Doc, who was sitting in the third stall, taking an eon to pee, heard the whole thing.
    Taryn sticks the