Free The Watcher by Jo Robertson Page A

Dr. Myers?”
    Sanderson lifted what would have been an eyebrow, had he not lost every strand of hair on his face from a bout of malaria during Vietnam. The dark, impressive wrinkle of skin above his eyes that served as a brow edged higher as he leaned over the huge banister and beckoned Slater closer.
    His voice was a gravelly whisper. “Why you interested in that skinny white gal? What you needs is a sister, more meat on her bones.”
    “Sandy, has the fact that I’m also white escaped you?”
    “No, man, believe me.” Sanderson tapped one thick fist against his chest. “You got more soul than any brother I know.”
    Slater grinned, amused as always that the jot of black blood coursing through his veins from his great-grandmother both damned him and exonerated him, depending on the company. He didn’t advertise his racial background because he didn’t consider it important. He never thought of himself in any terms but as a man and a police officer.
    But not telling Julie had been a mistake that she’d never forgiven. In her mind, her lily-white, southern upbringing had been corrupted by marriage to a man who had that single drop of blood, the standard southern slave-owners had used years ago to judge a slave’s value.
    He’d learned too late that Julie had the same standard.
    “Doctor Myers just headed for the S.I.D. squad room,” Sanderson continued, “all dressed up in a pretty white suit.”
    “Don’t be too hard on her. You know what they say about a beautiful woman competing in a man’s world.”
    “It didn’t usta be like that,” Sanderson complained. “In the day women knew what they place was.”
    Slater laughed and continued toward the squad room as Ray Borem came down the stairs. Borem’s thick lips twisted in what was meant to be a congenial smile, but ended as a smirk. Short and paunchy, he sported a head shaved smooth as a cue ball, but unlike Sanderson, he looked like a wanna-be skinhead.
    “Slater, you lucky bastard. That Doc Myers is one hot babe, know what I mean?” Borem licked a stubby finger and pressed it outward. “Pssst. Hot!”
    Slater tapped down the irritation he felt. From what he’d seen, Myers knew how to handle herself around an asshole like Borem. Fortunately, the man wasn’t on Slater’s team. He was part of Special Operations, which, because of the decline in drug-related activities in the county, had too much time on their hands. Way too much time in Slater’s mind. Borem headed down the stairs before entering the open door of the S.I.D.
    Marconi, Sanderson, Borem, and Wendt in archives – if Slater believed Kate Myers’ allegations, any one of them or a dozen others could’ve been involved in the cover up of a murder twenty years ago.

Chapter Nine
     
    Slater found Myers at Matt Bauer’s desk, her chair pulled close to him as they read through the murder book on the Johnston case. It was a thin file, but Slater knew by the time they closed the case, it’d be as fat as a blood-engorged tick.
    Myers’ winter-white skirt hiked up as she crossed her legs at the knee, showing smooth, tanned skin halfway up her thigh. Slater felt irrationally irritated as he watched Bauer lap up her attention like a puppy dog. When Myers caught Slater’s eye, a light flush started at her neck and spread across her high cheekbones. Bauer averted his eyes and played with the report in front of him.
    Remembering Borem’s words, Slater snapped, “Christ, Myers, if you want to seduce the kid, do it in private.”
    She went rigid in the dingy office chair, whipped her head around, and glared at him. “You’re way out of line, Detective.”
    “You’re out of line using one of my team members like that,” he retorted.
    “We were just, uh, you know – ” Matt offered.
    “Get us some coffee, will you, Matt?” Slater asked as he sat down in his chair across from them.
    Damn, what was wrong with him? He was acting like a jealous adolescent.
    “Are we going to have a problem