Death Stretch Read Online Free PDF Page A

couldn't put my finger on anything specific, but the suspicion someone had been inside my humble abode stuck with me.
    “Are you okay?” Dirk reached for me but stopped just before touching my arm. The aborted gesture stayed between us.
    “Yeah. I think so.”
    “Then we'll leave.” He pulled out a card and Pulaski did the same. “Call one of us if anything happens.”
    I took their cards and stuck them in my pocket.
    Dirk pointed to my pants. “Pull those cards out and put them by the phone.”
    “Yes, sir, Mr. Cop A—”
    I shut my mouth. He grinned and followed with an unexpected, way too endearing wink. My heart raced and I watched two fine behinds walk to my door.
    “And lock the damn door after us.”
    That did it. The fantasy died.

Chapter Four
    My favorite investigative news show blared from the living room. I'm not a big fan of television, but that was one show I tried to catch every Sunday. I liked to see the bad guys sweat.
    The onions I chopped gave my sinuses a workout, and I grabbed a tissue. The hair on my neck stood up. Someone watched me.
    No. Someone was in the house.
    I looked for a weapon. Nothing was close. Could I get to the knife on the chopping block? Could I even use force against another human? No doubt allowed. My bandaged hand reached for the blade.
    “Ms. Sheridan.”
    Holy crap, it was Johnson. I crossed my legs to keep from wetting myself. Equal parts of relief and pique filled me. I didn't know whether to kiss him or cuss him out.
    “I advised you to lock your door. What part of L-O-C-K translates to O-P-E-N in your brain?”
    Cussing him won the argument. My hand wanted to keep moving for the knife. Since I didn't want jail time, I refrained. Still, relenting was a close decision.
    “Detective Johnson, how nice of you to drop in. Uninvited. You're trespassing, aren't you?”
    He leaned against the doorjamb looking better than he ought. “I have cause.”
    I lifted my eyebrow. Oh, all right, both brows went up. I still hadn't mastered the one eyebrow lift like Cop Sexy.
    “No answer when I knocked, Ms. Sheridan. Television too loud. Known occupant present at the scene of a recent crime. Door unlocked. All signs of a problematic situation. I called out when I entered. You didn't answer.”
    “I didn't hear you.”
    “See, a crime could have been committed. I'm right to investigate.”
    My hand remained hovered above the knife. Cop Sexy noticed. Naturally, I dropped my arm to my side. “Why are you really here?”
    The hot olive oil smell recalled me to my task. A loud sizzle greeted my addition of onion and garlic to the frying pan.
    He scratched his cheek. “I forget.”
    My growl echoed louder than the hiss of cooking green peppers and fresh mushrooms. A rush of familiar aromas hit the air. I kept my head down, my hands busy stirring. Cop Sexy’s grin was so big I could feel the heat from five feet away.
    “Okay. I'll stop teasing. Mind if I sit down?”
    He'd already pulled out a chair at my table, so I didn't bother answering. Reaching into a pocket, he removed his notebook and pen. “I have a few more questions.”
    My temper came out to play. “Look, I've had a bad weekend and I just want to eat dinner and relax. Can't we talk some other time?”
    “Ms. Sheridan, Katie, look. My interview won't take long and you could provide some important insights.”
    “Yeah, right. Did someone tell you I did something else? Maybe kiss the corpse? Pull the other one.” The skillet required my attention. Time for fresh tomatoes.
    “Huh? Pull the other what?”
    “Pull the other leg. We both know there's nothing more I can tell you about Morgan's death.”
    I concentrated on the remaining ingredients and lowered the pan's heat, but I couldn't reduce my own. Johnson had me hot and bothered. He waltzed in bitching and I wanted to kiss him. Or more.
    “Boy, that smells good.”
    “You're not getting an invitation to dinner. Why are you here?”
    “You're an intelligent woman.