False Witness (John Steel series Book 3) Read Online Free PDF

machine and soft music from the radio filled the apartment.
    At first the sounds had not been apparent as she was half asleep, but the walk from her room had blown away some of the morning cobwebs.
    Someone was in her kitchen—her apartment.
    The detective looked over to the large dresser by the front door were she kept her Glock 17. It was a good twenty feet from where she was and she would have to go past the kitchen to get the weapon.
    Then her thoughts moved to the backup Smith and Wesson M&P.40 that was in a compartment in the headboard of her bed. McCall moved slowly, her gaze fixed on the kitchen door. She could probably take whoever it was but if they were armed then they would have the advantage, and she was about to change that situation.
    Sam walked backwards into the dimly lit room. She knew where everything was, how many feet to this or that. However, she hadn’t reckoned on backing into something—something that should not have been there.
    She turned to see Steel standing there, the light that crept through the door reflecting off his naked body. She gasped as he pulled her close and looked into her eyes before he pressed his lips against hers. Her body become limp in his muscular arms as he picked her up effortlessly and carried her to the bed. She felt the warmth of his body against hers as he drew closer to her until they became one. She threw her head back as her passion built up, her fingers clawing at his back. She was in ecstasy and she didn’t want it to stop. As she grew near a faint sound filled her ears, almost like a watch alarm was going off, a distant beep, beep, beep .
    McCall woke suddenly to the noise of her alarm as it grew louder. With an angry swipe she knocked the digital clock flying across the room. With an almost animalistic growl McCall slammed her head back into her pillow and banged her fists against the mattress. Sam got out of bed and headed for the bathroom to splash cold water on her face. As she got into the floor space between the kitchen and the bedroom she stopped and listened.
    She smiled at the silence and made for the bathroom. The water was cool and refreshing against her now sweaty skin. McCall looked up into the mirror and shook her head. “Damn it, not again, this dreaming has got to stop.”
     
     
     

SEVEN
     
     
     
     
    Becky Carlson stood in front of her father’s door. One hand was laden with groceries in large brown paper bags as she struggled to find her keys with the other.
    She would stop by every other day before work to see how her old man was doing. Her mom had kicked him to the curb and now he lived here—if you could call what he was doing living.
    Becky remembered him as a fit man, tall and handsome. In fact, he used to teach gym at the local school, until something happened and then it all changed. He had changed.
    Now he stayed indoors and never came out, never had visitors. His logic was: “If you don’t have a key you shouldn’t be there.”
    With a sigh of relief she found the large bunch of keys in her bag that hung on her shoulder, locating it by way of the special tag that she had put onto the keyring so it could be found using touch. As Becky’s fingers found the high recesses of the tag, she smiled. Becky lifted the key and scraped it along the door where she thought the lock was, until it jammed on something. Carefully, she pushed and it sank home and the key clicked into place.
    As she began to turn it a voice from behind made her jump with fright.
    “Morning, Becky,” were the words.
    Her bags of groceries crashed to the floor, and her back slammed against the door as she held her chest, trying to calm herself from the shock.
    “Mr Edwards, God, you scared the shit out of me,” she said in relief, laughing and shaking her head as she bent down to pick up the food items. The aging black man strained to kneel down to assist in retrieving the spilled shopping.
    “Sorry kid, didn’t mean to scare you, hell, I breathe like a