Under a Raging Moon Read Online Free PDF

weren’t smart enough to make detective, right?
    Winter frowned. He had to stop hanging out with Ridgeway. He was ge t ting more negative by the day.
    He returned to the puzzle at hand. So the robber gets in the car and drives away... or maybe someone else is driving?
    An accomplice?
    Winter smiled. Of course.
    A woman . That’s how he does it.
    Winter resisted the urge to hoot and holler. Hot damn, it was so easy once you saw it!
    He robs the store, then runs to the car and hops in. He lays down in the back seat or something. Maybe covers up with a blanket. The woman driver gets on an arterial and drives two miles an hour under the speed limit in one direction. Five minutes later, they are way out of the area and safe. All the cops in the city are either back near the store that he just robbed or they are running lights and siren to get there.
    Not bad. I’ll bet that is how he does it.
    With the last piece stacked, Winter returned to the chopping block and with exuberance cut a few more pieces. He wondered if the detectives or the crime analysis unit had figured this out yet. He wondered whether he should share the idea, or give the detectives a dose of their own medicine.
    Then he wondered why this guy felt like he had to rob a store every day and a half. That was a hell of a lot of exposure.
    Winter’s brow furrowed.
    Drugs? Probably.
    He set up a piece of wood and stepped back to chop it. Another small mystery solved.
    The back door opened and Mary approached carrying a glass of iced tea. Winter admired her slender frame for a m o ment, but found himself drawn as usual to her face and to the laughing eyes that stared into him. Her dark hair was pulled back into a clip. He smiled when he noticed the single large strand that always pulled free and hung loosely on her cheek.
    “Take a break, Grizzly Adams,” she said lightly, handing him the tall glass.
    Winter took it and drank deeply. Mary’s tea had always been bitter, something he’d never had the heart to tell her. Eventually, he’d grown to like the taste. Inside the house, he could hear the stereo playing and recognized a Springsteen tune, Thunder Road . He lowered the glass and let out a satisfied sigh.
    “Thanks, sweetheart.”
    “You’re welcome.” She smiled at him and Winter felt his heart melt. Forty-four years old, and she still made him feel like a schoolboy.
    Winter remembered when he would play Springsteen songs for her on his acoustic guitar. His voice was horrible and his guitar playing barely medi o cre, but he had passion. He took several rock songs and slowed them down, doing them acoust i cally and, he tried, romantically.
    Her favorite was Thunder Road , partially because the woman in it was named Mary. Years later, Sprin g steen himself did an acoustic version of that song on M-TV. Winter broke his vow never to watch that channel and tuned in for the show. After it was over, Mary leaned against him and kissed his temple. He could still remember her warm breath in his ear as she whi s pered, “I liked your version better.”
    Winter stared at her and took another drink of the bitter tea. It was cold. Mary looked back at him with a small smile playing on her lips.
    “Are you going to chop wood all day?” she asked coyly.
    Winter glanced at the dying sun, then back at her. He shook his head. “No. Not all day.”
    Mary took the iced tea from his hand and set it on the chopping block. She gathered both his hands in hers and led him up the back steps to their house.
    Karl Winter forgot all about the Scarface robberies.
     

TWO
     
    Sunday, August 14th
    Graveyard Shift
    2010 hours
     
    Stefan Kopriva blocked the punch and twisted to his right, snapping out a short round kick toward Shen’s abd o men. The lithe sergeant dropped his elbow, catching the top of Kopriva’s foot with the point.
    Kopriva grunted in pain, but pulled the foot back and fired it at Shen’s head.
    Shen leaned away from the kick, then slid underneath and swept Kopr