"C.E. Murphy - Banshee Cries" - читать интересную книгу автора (Murphy C. E)

my best to stifle a groan. тАЬCaptain.тАЭ
тАЬI need youтАФтАЭ
 These were words that another woman might be pleased to hear from Captain
Michael Morrison of the Seattle Police Department. Then again, if he was saying
them to another woman, there probably wouldnтАЩt have been the slight tension in his
voice that suggested his mouth was pressed into a thin line and his nostrils flared
with irritation at having the conversation. He had a good voice, nice and low. I
imagined it could carry reassuring softness, the kind that would calm a scared kid.
Unfortunately, the only softness I ever heard in it was the kind that said, This is the
calm before the storm, which happened to be how he sounded right now. I crushed
my eyes closed, face wrinkling up, and prodded the bump on my forehead.
тАЬтАФto come in to work.тАЭ
тАЬItтАЩs my weekend, Morrison.тАЭ As if this would make any difference. I could hear
his ears turning red.
тАЬI wouldnтАЩt be calling you inтАФтАЭ
тАЬYeah.тАЭ I bit the word off and wrapped my hand around the bottom of PetiteтАЩs
frame. тАЬWhatтАЩs going on?тАЭ
Silence. тАЬIтАЩd rather not tell you.тАЭ
тАЬJesus, Morrison.тАЭ I straightened up, feeling the blood return to the line across my
back where IтАЩd been leaning on the car. тАЬIs anybody dead? Is Billy okay?тАЭ
тАЬHollidayтАЩs fine. Can you get over to Woodland Park?тАЭ
тАЬYeah, IтАФтАЭ I tilted my head back, looking at the MustangтАЩs roof. Truth was, IтАЩd
been futzing around under the engine block because I couldnтАЩt stand to look at the
damage done to my babyтАЩs roof anymore. A twenty-nine-inch gash, not that IтАЩd
measured or anything, ran from the windshieldтАЩs top edge almost all the way to the
back window. From my vantage, thin stuffing and fabric on the inside ceiling
shredded and dangled like a teddy bear whoтАЩd seen better days. Beyond that,
soldered edges of steel, not yet sanded down, looked like somebodyтАЩd dragged an
ax through it.
Which was precisely what had happened.
A little knot of agony tied itself around my heart and squeezed, just like it did every
time I looked at my poor car. The war wounds were almost three months old and
killing me, but the insurance company was dragging its feet. Full coverage did cover
acts of GodтАФor in my case, acts of godsтАФbut IтАЩd only said sheтАЩd been hit by
vandals, because who would believe the truth? In the meantime, IтАЩd already spent my
meager savings replacing the gas tank that somebodyтАЩd shot an arrow through.
My life had gotten unpleasantly weird in the past few months.
I forced myself to find something else to look atтАФthe opposite garage wall had a
calendar with a mostly naked woman on it, which was sort of an improvementтАФand
sighed. тАЬYeah,тАЭ I said again, into the phone. тАЬIтАЩm gonna have to take a cab.тАЭ
тАЬFine. Just get here. North entrance. Wear boots.тАЭ Morrison hung up and I threw
the phone over my shoulder into the car again. Then I said a word nice girls
shouldnтАЩt and scrambled after the phone, propping myself in the bucket seat with
one leg out the door. Bedraggled as she was, just sitting in Petite made me feel
better. I patted her steering wheel and murmured a reassurance to her as I dialed the
phone. A voice that had smoked too many cigarettes answered and I grinned, sliding
down in PetiteтАЩs leather seat.
тАЬStill working?тАЭ
 тАЬYтАЩknow, in my day, when somebody made a phone call, they said hello and gave
their name before anything else.тАЭ