Thicker Than Water Read Online Free PDF Page B

people, civilians, didn’t see it the way cops did. Neither did people like Susan Outlaw. She was an attorney. No, a defense attorney, who had to see the world and its lowlifes in a different light just so she could collect a paycheck and pay her rent. He had always wondered how defense lawyers did it. What, did they count leeches to get to sleep at night?
    The walk, the talk. The eyes. Yeah, especially your eyes.
    Louis took another drink of coffee.
    Okay, so he still had cop eyes.
    But he wasn’t a cop any more.
    He glanced at his watch. Shit. It was twelve-thirty. He was supposed to meet Mobley at O’Sullivan’s. A ripple of laughter drew his attention to a nearby table, where a clot of men in suits were huddled over beers, sleek briefcases sitting at their feet like obedient pet dogs. Lawyers.
    Louis shook his head. It hit him in that second: If he took Jack Cade’s case, he would have to go over to the other side for the first time in his life.
    Maybe that was why he hadn’t slept last night.
    He tossed some bills on the table and left.

Chapter Five
    He walked the four blocks to O’Sullivan’s. The old bar was a stone’s throw from the police station and walking distance from the sheriff ’s office, an easy stop for deputies after shifts.
    Louis eased inside, blinking to adjust to the darkness. He had been in the bar a few times before, when he first arrived in Fort Myers. He had come hoping to find some conversation and a sense of camaraderie. And at first, when he was riding the wave of the serial killer case, he had found acceptance among the cops.
    But his stature had faded quickly when the News-Press had run a follow-up profile on him. In the article, the whole Michigan thing had come out and suddenly conversation in O’Sullivan’s wasn’t so friendly. Zach back at the sheriff’s office was the exception; most the cops were like Deputy Lovett in the elevator, treating him like he didn’t exist.
    Louis scanned the crowd for Mobley. He spotted him leaning over the jukebox. Mobley’s blond hair was wind-blown, his tan face glowing blue in the jukebox lights. He was off-duty, wearing a white polo shirt and creased black trousers that looked like they had been req’d from the uniform room at the sheriff’s office.
    Louis moved through the crowd toward him. Mobley glanced at him, then looked away.
    â€œI expected you a half-hour ago,” Mobley said.
    â€œGot tied up.”
    Mobley fed a dollar bill into the jukebox and started punching numbers.
    â€œWhat’s your interest in Cade?” he asked without looking up.
    â€œHis kid, Ronnie, wants to hire me.”
    Mobley’s finger paused over a button, then he poked at it hard. “Didn’t think the Cades had any money.”
    Louis didn’t reply. Mobley picked up his beer off the top of the jukebox and started back to his table, nodding at Louis to follow. The table in the back was cluttered with empty beer bottles, crumpled napkins and ashtrays brimming with butts. The two cops sitting there looked up at Louis, then their eyes slid to Mobley.
    â€œSince when did this table go civilian, Sheriff?” one asked.
    â€œSince I said so. Take a piss break, guys.”
    The men ambled off toward the pool table. Mobley motioned for Louis to sit down.
    â€œWhat do you drink?” Mobley asked.
    â€œHeineken.”
    Mobley went to the bar and returned with two beers. He slid in the booth across from Louis and finished off his first beer in one long drink then reached for the fresh one.
    â€œWhat’s this about, Sheriff?” Louis asked. “You going to bust my chops just because I saw Cade?”
    â€œThere’s a lot of interest in this case, from Tallahassee on down. Sandusky wants to know who the players are, that’s all.” Mobley eyed him over the lip of the bottle. “Are you a player?”
    Louis hesitated. He didn’t like Lance Mobley.