Free At Close Range by Jessica Andersen Page B

a coldness she hadn’t even been aware of began to melt. Her stomach loosened and her shoulders dropped.
    It was okay.
    She was okay.

    The words beat a litany in her head, and she realized that she was shaking. It wasn’t until she sniffled and tasted salt that she realized she was crying, too. A sob bubbled up from somewhere deep inside her and erupted before she could choke it down. Another followed, then another, until her ribs locked up and she had to press her palms against the water-warmed tiles to keep herself upright.
    Oh, God. I could’ve died. I almost did.
    She remembered arguing with Varitek on her front porch. He’d wanted to look around, she’d wanted him to leave her alone. She’d opened her door, stepped inside and turned to close it. Then—
    Nothing. She didn’t remember a thing until she heard him shouting, felt his arms holding her, felt the waves of sickness inside her, all around her. Swamping her, consuming her.
    Controlling her.
    Chilled now, though the water was still scalding hot, she shut off the spray and leaned against the cool wall for a moment, waiting for the room to stop spinning.
    “I’m a little drunk,” she said, and was startled at how loud the words sounded in the echoing bathroom. She grabbed a towel from the rack, wrapped it around her torso and wobbled out into the main room.
    She cursed when she saw that the message light wasn’t blinking. Marcy—Varitek’s only female forensics tech—hadn’t called. “The jerk forgot to ask her about getting my clothes.”
    No doubt her predicament had been lost amidst more important details, like ordering up manpower to take over her case, her city. Her job. Who knew? Maybe calling in Varitek was the chief’s way of saying he didn’t want a dedicated forensics department. Maybe he was thinking of shutting them down and outsourcing.
    What would Alissa and Maya say if they came home to pink slips? They would try to be brave about it, Cassie knew, because they were classier, kinder people than she.
    But the three friends would be split up again, sent to cop shops elsewhere in the state.
    You need to try making friends, Alissa’s voice said in Cassie’s brain. Or maybe it was Maya’s voice. God knew they’d both been on her to ease back, chill out, try to get along. But she hadn’t bothered, because she’d been so damn sure she knew better.
    Cassie’s eyes threatened to fill again and she snuffled back the tears. She’d never been a weepy drunk before, and she didn’t intend to start now. Besides, she could feel the glow wearing off by the moment, leaving achy tiredness and bruises behind.
    Out of nowhere, determination grabbed her, driving away the shakes and the tears.
    She’d show them. She was good enough. Smart enough. She had the class ring they’d found, along with a few other bits of evidence from the grave. She had the hat and jacket from the guy who’d messed with her brakes. Let Varitek’s people have her house.
    She was going to solve the case from the other end.
    Stone-cold sober now, and almost sorry for it, she pulled on the hotel robe and tucked Varitek’s backup gun inside, where the terry-cloth belt would hold it in place. No way she was going back to the lab unarmed. Hell, it was bad enough she was going there nearly naked. But she had a change of clothes in her office, and it was late enough that she could probably get herself through the back entrance without seeing anyone in person.

    Yes, she’d show up on the security cams—the ones that had been suspiciously blanked when the lab was sabotaged during the kidnapping case. The other cops were sure to print off some ridiculous picture of her wandering the halls in a bathrobe and nothing else, but she told herself she didn’t care.
    They already didn’t like her. It didn’t matter if they hazed her further. What mattered was getting to the bottom of this case, identifying the murderer and protecting Bear Claw.
    Her city.
    Knowing this was the best