Devil in the Deadline Read Online Free PDF Page A

with the crease in the front. “That sounds suspiciously like an opener for letting me down easy.”
    â€œNothing about this is easy. I’m trying, but I can’t seem to find the old fire, you know?” I laid one hand over his and he nodded. “I’m sorry. I wish it was different. But I think we should try the friend thing. For now, anyway. I wouldn’t hurt your feelings for the world, but it’s not fair of me to let you keep hoping for something I’m not sure will ever be, either.”
    He tapped a finger on the hat brim, raising his eyes to mine after twelve hours (or possibly a good three minutes that felt like forever) of contemplation.
    â€œI don’t suppose I have much of a choice.” His voice was soft, and the catch in it told me he was hiding hurt feelings behind his grin. “I can appreciate your honesty. But I won’t say I’m not sorry.”
    I held his gaze for a long second before I pulled his hand to my lips, brushing them over his knuckles. “I am, too.”
    He squeezed my hand. “I wish I was the kind of guy who could be mad at you. It’d make my life easier. But I’m not.”
    â€œWe okay?” I raised hopeful eyebrows.
    â€œRight as rain, Granny B would say.” He kicked open the door and stood, turning to lean back into the car. “Goodnight, friend. Don’t get yourself in over your head chasing this lead, and be careful with White. He might like you, but he wants this collar more than he wants air right now. You think he’s doing you a favor. But there’s a lot in this one for him. Watch your back.”
    I nodded. “Thanks, Kyle.”
    â€œCall if you need me.” He shut the door and disappeared into the building.
    His disappointed half-smile followed me all the way home. I knew I’d done the right thing by telling the truth, but it still kind of sucked. There was a hell of a headline waiting for me, though. Dead chick and psycho killer first. Boys later.
    Kicking my Manolos to the kitchen floor, I patted my toy Pomeranian on the head and stretched. Iwanted the story on the web before the early news shows, so I grabbed a cup of Colombian Fair Trade and my laptop and settled on the sofa to write.
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    Richmond Police are combing the boulders of Belle Isle for clues in the early light this morning, following the grisly discovery of a murder scene in an old switch house overlooking the park just after 10 p.m. Saturday.
    â€œEvil. Evil is the only word I’ve got,” RPD Spokesman Aaron White said as he surveyed the scene.
    White said the young woman was stabbed
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    I paused, staring at my blinking cursor. Filleted was the word I would personally use, but I didn’t want to include too many details of the scene in the story. Walking the line between “enough to nail the exclusive” and “too little to screw up the investigation” wasn’t easy on the best day, and at two in the morning on very little caffeine, it was damn near impossible. Stabbed. I nodded, adding “repeatedly.” Good enough.
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    The scene was discovered by vagrants looking for shelter.
    â€œNo one’s ever there at night,” the man who called police told the Richmond Telegraph in an exclusive interview. “Cops patrol the park pretty good after dark, watching for drug dealers. It’s a safe place to sleep. Cool in the summer, with the breeze from the river and all the concrete.”
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    I added a few more comments from Aaron, tiptoeing around the forensic jargon, but hitting that this murder was anything but standard issue. I put his number in the last paragraph with a plea for information. That would bring the nut jobs out of the woodwork and give him some sorting to do, but chasing wild geese was often the only road to someone who could actually help.
    I emailed the story to my editor a little before three, adding an “urgent” flag and a