Hidden Vices Read Online Free PDF Page A

wasn’t quite right here. Not your job to follow that instinct anymore, Megan . She chose to ignore it. As she opened the car door, she glanced up and realized she wasn’t actually alone. Perched on the top of a phone pole was a hawk. The way it peered down at Megan made her feel challenged. The predator possessed an air of self-confidence that bordered on arrogance.
    Like looking in a mirror , she thought to herself.
    Megan climbed into the truck, refusing to break eye contact with her contender. When she closed the car door, the hawk took flight. She stared until it was out of view, then started the engine and flicked on the seat warmer. Best invention in the world. If the heat in the lake house ever gave way, she’d sleep in the Range Rover. It would cost more than a room at the Four Seasons in gas, but it was an option, if in dire need. The gas light lit up on cue as she pulled out of the driveway. She remembered passing a gas station a little less than a half-mile from the gatehouse.
    The station looked as deserted as the property she’d just left. The garages were pulled shut and there were no cars or even an attendant within sight—not that she could blame them. She glanced at the Range Rover’s temperature display. Nineteen degrees isn’t an enjoyable temperature, unless you’re a polar bear. She caught a glimpse of movement in the main office area. Megan climbed out of the Range Rover with as much grace as a pig skating on ice holding a glass of champagne.
    A woman in her fifties emerged from the station. She walked out to the car with a small smile on her weathered face, having seen Megan’s dismount of the truck. She wore tan work boots, faded jeans, and a denim shirt underneath an army jacket. Here was a woman in touch and incredibly comfortable with her masculine side.
    â€œLooks like a parachute might come in handy next time you get out of that truck.” She smiled. “Going on safari with this monster?”
    Megan raised her eyebrows looking back. “Not a bad idea, actually.”
    â€œWhat can I get you?” The woman reached for the gas pump.
    â€œI can do that,” Megan assured.
    â€œSorry, hon, not in New Jersey. Only attendants can work the pump,” she answered while unscrewing the gas cap.
    â€œWhy?” Megan asked, though she was more curious why the woman referred to her as hon . Megan would be lying to herself if she said introducing herself as Detective Megan McGinn didn’t stroke her ego a bit. After all, she’d worked damn hard for that title. Being referred to as hon , especially by another woman, felt belittling. It was too familiar.
    The attendant waved off the question. “It’s a state thing. Been that way ever since I can remember. So, how much?” she asked again.
    â€œFill it, please. Regular.”
    â€œI half expected a Navy Seal to come flying out of this beast, not a petite thing such as yourself.”
    â€œYeah, I didn’t realize the previous owners put on such large tires before I bought it.”
    â€œYou’re not from around here, are you?”
    â€œHow can you tell?” Megan asked.
    â€œYou have all your teeth,” she said with a hint of sarcasm. “I’m just kidding.” She pointed to the rear of the truck. “New York plates.”
    Megan nodded.
    â€œWhat brings you out to a New Jersey lake town this time of year?”
    â€œI love the winter.” It was a partial truth. She did enjoy the change of seasons; it just wasn’t her reason for being there.
    â€œWell, you’ll get a lot of that around here. You have the right vehicle with the amount of snow we get. You’re in pickup-and-plow country. Gets real quiet over the next few months.”
    Thank God.
    â€œDid you buy a place nearby?”
    Jesus, what is it with the people around here? Are you ex-Stasi?
    â€œNo, I’m just renting. Down the street.” She nodded in the