Free Hazardous Duty by Christy Barritt Page A

you’re innocent—” I paused as Harold swung his head back and forth. “Why
are you doing that?”
    His fingers laced and unlaced in front
of him. This was a man that I didn’t believe could get rattled less than five
hours ago. Now, he was close to crumbling.
    “I got caught in traffic. Then I decided
to stop by the house and shower. You know how the smell of blood just saturates
you—”
    I touched his arm. “I know.”
    “I’m the perfect suspect.” Harold
lowered his head into his hands again.
    “I believe you, Harold.”
    “Now you just have to make sure the
police believe you.” Riley uncrossed his arms and stepped closer. “Did they say
anything about a search warrant?”
    “They’re trying to get one right now.”
    “Do you have a lawyer?”
    “Not yet.”
    Riley began pacing. “You need to get a
lawyer. You should have had one in the first place. They did tell you that,
didn’t they?”
    He shrugged. “I was so overwhelmed, I
don’t remember what they told me. I just knew I wanted to get home. I wanted to
wake up from this nightmare.”
    As if on cue, a police car pulled to a
stop in front of the house, followed by a black sedan.
    Detective Parker, I realized. My stomach
rolled with nausea.
    The Brad Pitt look-alike stepped out of
the car, sunglasses on and hair gelled in place
    “I guess that search warrant came
through pretty quickly,” I mumbled, standing. I stepped between Harold and
Parker as the officers approached.
    Parker’s smirking gaze fell on me, and I
wished I’d never mentally complimented him with the Brad Pitt comparison.
“Well, if it isn’t Nancy Drew. Why am I not surprised to see you here?”
    “Tell me, is it that you’re stubborn or
ignorant that prevents you from admitting the truth?”
    His eyebrows shot up and, though I
couldn’t see his eyes, I would bet he was scowling beneath those dark glasses.
    “I’ve told you to leave the
investigation to professionals.” His words were as clipped and tight as his
expression.
    “You guys are as professional as Bozo on
his first day at the circus. Do you need me to remind you of what a lousy job
you’ve done so far?”
    Harold laid a hand on my arm, but my
heart still raced with adrenaline. “It’s okay, Gabby. Let them go on and search
the house. They won’t find anything.”
    Parker slipped his movie star glasses up
and gave me a smoldering glance before following the officers into the house.
    “What did you mean by all of that, Gabby?”
Harold’s eyes contained the first touch of hope I’d seen since this ordeal
started.
    I should have kept my tongue in check, I
realized. I sucked in a breath. It was too late to take back what I’d said. I
just hoped Harold wouldn’t get his expectations up. Parker obviously breezed
through school on looks alone. He offered nothing in the brain department.
    “I found some evidence after you left,
Harold. A gun. With blood. On top of that, I talked to a neighbor this morning
who said she saw someone walking around the house last night.”
    The hope in his gaze deepened. “And you
told the detective?”
    I nodded. “He doesn’t seem to take what
I saw too seriously, though.”
    “This isn’t an investigation for
amateurs, Gabby,” Riley said. His gaze drifted behind me, and I glanced over my
shoulder. My scowl intensified when I saw Parker in the doorway.
    “I know what I saw, and I know what that
woman told me,” I whispered quickly. “Something’s not matching up in this case,
and I’m not about to let Harold get framed for it.”
    The detective stomped onto the wooden
porch, his steps reverberating the flimsy floorboards. His eyes burnt a hole
through me, and his jaw clenched as he walked toward Harold. Music for “Send in
the Clowns” played in my head.
    “Harold, you’re under arrest for arson
and theft.” Parker pulled handcuffs from his belt and jerked Harold to his
feet.
    “You’ve got to believe me, I didn’t do
this!” Harold pleaded, panic