Free Tina Whittle_Tai Randall Mystery 01 by The Dangerous Edge of Things Page A

sure?”
    “I’m positive. I saw the same car Thursday morning at Phoenix, in the parking garage. That afternoon, Marisa discovered two security cameras destroyed.”
    “So you’ve got somebody following you?”
    “Following us.”
    “No, following you. People don’t follow me.”
    He slipped me this sideways look.
    “Okay, besides you. But why would anybody be following me besides you?”
    “I don’t know.”
    He downshifted and took the car into a tight left. And in that moment, in that completely coincidental convergence of angle and motion, I saw the break of his jacket on his left side. And there it was.
    I pointed. “You brought a gun.”
    He looked puzzled. “I usually carry a gun.”
    “And it never occurred to you to say, oh, by the way, Tai, I’m armed and dangerous?”
    “I don’t tell people I’m carrying a weapon unless they ask.”
    I couldn’t argue. It didn’t pay to go around advertising that you were armed and dangerous. But then, I doubted few people were in Trey’s league of dangerous.
    “So you think something’s going to happen?”
    “Something?”
    “Yes, something.” I scanned the traffic nervously. “You know, something like finding a dead body, getting surprised by intruders, getting tailed, getting shot at. Those kinds of something.”
    “You haven’t been shot at.”
    “I’m just saying! Do you think things are getting dangerous? For me, I mean, not you—I’m sure things are dangerous for you all the time. But I’m not used to this, not at all!”
    He turned onto Memorial. He looked thoughtful.
    “There has been a murder. And now there’s someone following us. That means things already are dangerous.”
    My heart did a sick little shimmy.
    “However,” he continued. “I’ve been assigned to protect you. I intend to do so.”
    The way he said it was serious and matter-of-fact. It was surprising and reassuring and a little touching, all at the same time.
    “Thank you,” I said.
    “You’re welcome.”
    I gestured toward the holster. “So what you got under there?”
    “H& P7M8.”
    Heckler and Koch, a nine-millimeter. I was familiar with the brand. Very expensive and hard to get now that they’d gone out of production, but very smooth and virtually jam proof once you got the hang of working the squeeze cocker. It was also heavy and hot and required a strong grip, but I imagined Trey had no problem with the latter.
    “That’s an unusual choice for a service weapon.”
    “Phoenix issue. Landon’s choice.” His expression turned mildly curious. “Does it bother you that I’m carrying a weapon?”
    I thought about the question. Guns in a display case were one thing. Guns in a holster to protect me from a deranged killer were quite another.
    “No, but will you just tell me from now on, as a courtesy?”
    “Of course.”
    And that was that. But I was glad he hadn’t been looking straight at me when I’d said no.
    He’d have spotted the lie for sure.

Chapter 12
    Trey escorted me into the station, where Detective Ryan shook hands with him. Apparently they knew each other from Trey’s days with the APD, and even though there was no attempt at small talk, some strange off-the-radar communication zipped between them. I decided it was a cop thing.
    “I’ll wait out front,” he said, and left me to it.
    Ryan indicated a drawing on the table in front of me. “This person look familiar?”
    It was a police sketch, a guy with a military buzz cut and thick flat features. The eyes were blank—not mean, just vacant—and there was something solid about the guy, something close to the ground.
    I shook my head. “Nope. Who is he?”
    In the fluorescent light, Ryan’s cocoa skin looked ashy, but his eyes were sharp as ever. “That’s a good question. The manager at the apartment complex where Eliza lived gave us this description. He said he’d seen him around her place, maybe a boyfriend?”
    “I wouldn’t know.”
    “Ever seen him hanging around your