The Detective's Dilemma Read Online Free PDF Page B

strange excitement that he recalled last feeling as a child, as if he were on an outing he’d been looking forward to—a trip to the circus, perhaps.
    He drew nearer to her and waited for her to sidle away, but she didn’t, though her hand in the satin bag rose a few inches.
    “Tell me the details,” he said softly.
    “Of what?”
    “Of why you’re taking these desperate steps, running from the law. I can be your ally, you know. Persuade me to work on your behalf.” He doubted she’d be able to convince him to abandon his life entirely—which was what he’d have to do if he took up her cause.
    “Why should I beg you to do anything? You forget I’m the one holding a gun, Detective Walker.”
    “You won’t kill me.” He spoke with confidence he didn’t entirely feel.
    She remained silent.
    He said, “You’re clearly a sensible person, so think this through. My employers know where I was going. If I were found dead, you or your friend Brennan would be the primary suspects.”
    She shifted the bag again, and it took him a moment to understand she wasn’t making a signal. Her hand had to ache from the weight of the gun. She rolled her shoulders. “Why do you call me sensible? You obviously don’t know me. I will do anything to keep my son safe. Don’t underestimate my protective instincts.”
    “Like we police have done?” he asked, hoping to wipe that fear from her face, but the remark seemed to make her mouth firmer, her frown deeper, and her step quicker.
    “Mr. Winthrop, my father-in-law, never takes chances. That’s part of the reason I’m so worried.”
    “Tell me what your husband claimed they did to him.”
    “If I do, will you help me?”
    “I’m not sure. But I certainly won’t if you don’t.”
    She moved closer so they almost touched and waited until they’d walked well past a delivery driver unloading his cart before she spoke. “I promised not to tell that part, but….” Her voice came out a low croak. “They hurt him. His parents hurt my husband.”
    “What did they do?”
    She looked around, then made a brief gesture at Walker’s front, indicating his private parts.
    “They hurt him,” she said again, and he understood her red face wasn’t from embarrassment but from anger and loathing. “He was a gentle soul, my James, but I think he had been broken. His father was angry with him for…reasons. I wonder if hurting him fit his father’s idea of recreation.” She sped up.
    They had to walk single file around a man with tools spread across the sidewalk as he repaired a brick wall. She indicated Walker should precede her, and that felt entirely wrong to someone who’d been taught ladies first, always.
    Once the whistling workman was out of earshot, Walker looked over his shoulder at her. “Did your husband try to seek help?”
    She waited until they were side by side again to answer. “On occasion, but they were his parents, and they’re powerful, well-respected people. The things they did… No child can speak of such things. A doctor noticed what they had done to him—yes, they left marks. James was afraid, but he admitted the truth. The doctor called him a liar and said he must have done those unspeakable things to himself.”
    “Good Lord,” he muttered.
    “The abuse was bad enough, but James was also neglected. He only remembered seeing the doctor that once. He’d grown very ill. His parents ignored him, and a tutor summoned the doctor over their objections. I’m sure that’s why he was sick so often—his heart had been badly injured during the illness.” She gave a shuddering breath, and her nose and eyes reddened, but she didn’t fish a handkerchief from her pocket. He suspected that should she break down crying, she’d be one of those people who became a mess, all fluids down a creased face.
    He pondered how he could discover the truth of her account. She believed the story; he’d bet a week’s pay on that. But had her husband told her outrageous