High Risk by G.K. Parks (thriller book recommendations txt) 📗

“You mean that isn’t the police department’s official softball uniform?” I gasped in mock horror.

He squinted in my direction. “Has anyone mentioned you’re not that funny?”

“Really? The voices in my head think I’m hilarious.”

He chuckled, a deep velvety sound that eased the unsettled feeling in the pit of my stomach. “I hate to break it to you, but they’re wrong.”

“Pfft.” I slowed as the traffic light turned yellow. “You’re just jealous you don’t have a built-in audience to give you unfettered adulation. But I guess you don’t need it. You had your own cheering section at the game this morning.”

“I can’t believe you invited Emma. See, this is why I didn’t tell you about softball.”

“Seriously?”

He chuckled. “Sure.” Except he knew I didn’t believe him. “You hate watching sports. And you saw what it was like. Aside from the families, everyone else enjoying the game has ulterior motives. You already break my balls enough over my dating life.”

For the first time, the complaint actually sounded sincere. “I’m sorry.”

He shook it off. “How’d last night go with Logan?”

“We’re all set for court. He wanted me to remind you that you have to meet up with him.”

Brad tapped his temple. “Like a steel trap.” He turned sideways to face me. “You didn’t wash your hair.”

“How do you know that?” I felt the top of my head. “Does it look greasy?”

“No, you look fine. But you only wear your hair like that when you don’t have time to shower.”

I cocked an eyebrow at him. “I wear my hair up all the time.”

“I know, but you rarely do the twisty thing.” He leaned closer. “And you smell like cologne. So unless you bought some very manly scented soap, I think you have some explaining to do.”

I couldn’t believe he just said that. Apparently, I’d also underestimated his detecting skills. He might be the greatest sleuth since Sherlock Holmes. At this rate, Emma could be his Watson. “Oh, like you inviting Carrie to watch you pitch? We’ve been partners for nearly two years. You’re the one who has some explaining to do.”

“The light’s green.” He shook his head and pointed at the windshield, just as the driver behind me honked his horn. “And we’ve been partners for over two years. You don’t like sports. And I knew if you knew, you’d feel obligated to go. Honestly, Liv, I was saving you from countless hours on the bleachers, lumped in with all the wives, girlfriends, and families.”

“And you were afraid I’d hurt your game.”

“You’re not that much of a distraction.”

“I wasn’t talking about your pitching, Romeo.”

Brad’s cheeks reddened, and he turned his head to stare out the window. “Did you and Emma enjoy yourselves?”

“Emma definitely did. What do you know about the other team’s third baseman?”

“He’s a firefighter. He might have been in the calendar. I heard some guys teasing him about it.”

I realized that’s why he looked familiar. “Mr. August.” That spelled trouble with a capital T, but it was just the kind of trouble Emma would want to get into. At least this guy was a legitimate firefighter and not a killer in disguise.

Brad cocked an eyebrow at me, but I shook off the question. He didn’t need me to connect the dots. He knew my best friend almost as well as I did. “So you didn’t have a good time busting my balls?”

“I didn’t show up to bust your balls. You should know me better than that. For what it’s worth, you looked pretty damn impressive out there. You have a good arm.”

“Thanks.”

At the sight of the parked police cars, I turned and pulled in at the end of the row. Our conversation had been a distraction to ease our nerves, but now we were here. And it was bad. Worse than I thought it would be, and I hadn’t even stepped out of the car yet.

The crime scene techs were already hard at work. Two officers guarded the perimeter of the police tape, so I identified myself and flashed my badge.

“What do we know so far?” Brad asked while I ducked under the tape.

The officer consulted his notepad. “The call came in around 8:30 this morning. Shots fired. When we arrived on scene, we found them.” He gestured to two tarps. One on the sidewalk, the other near the rear of an opened armored truck. “The store’s alarm had been triggered. The door was open, but we didn’t notice any obvious signs of a break-in. No signs of forced entry. Nothing to indicate the killer took anything from inside. We don’t even know if he went inside.”

“He didn’t have to,” I said. “He waited for the guards to wheel it out. The cash they collected and whatever was inside the back of the truck is what he wanted.”

“Has the armored truck company been notified?” Brad asked.

“The sergeant’s handling it.”

“Where’s the shop owner?” I asked.

The officer shook his head. “The EMTs don’t think he’ll make it.” He pointed to a marker on the sidewalk near the front entrance. The stain on the concrete could only be one thing.

“Did anyone see anything?” Brad asked. “Customers? Employees? People on the street?”

“Shop was closed. It doesn’t open until ten. When we arrived, the looky-loos scattered. We have yet to speak to any witnesses.”

“What about the shop owner?” I asked. “Did he say anything before they took him to the hospital?”

The officer shook his head. “He was too busy choking on his own blood.” He sucked in a breath and stared into the distance. “I’m guessing if anyone was around to see what happened, they took off the moment the thief opened fire.”

“Still, someone made the 9-1-1 call. Did dispatch trace the number? We need to ID the caller.” Brad ducked beneath the tape to stand beside