Free Edge of Danger (Edge Security Series Book 3) by Trish Loye Page B

there.”
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    S he told Drew where she was headed and took one of the Bureau’s unmarked cars to make the run. She pulled into the subway stop in her neighborhood ten minutes later.
    She strode onto the sidewalk on Broadway and flipped her badge at the street cop who went to block her path. She hustled down the stairs to the number one line and welcomed the respite from the wind. Joe stood at the turnstiles. His short, squat frame belied his speed and strength, as she’d found out when they’d run the academy’s obstacle course. He smiled when he saw her.
    “Thanks for coming,” he said.
    “Who’s the detective on scene?”
    “Raymonds.”
    She barely suppressed her groan. “You couldn’t have told me that before?”
    Joe shrugged. “I know you like a challenge.”
    He led her down another set of stairs to make it to the level of the train in question. Five officers held the scene—one at each end of the platform, two near the scene, and one near Detective Jack Raymonds.
    Raymonds was a fifty-year-old sack of steel, will, and stubbornness. The fine broken capillaries in his nose and cheeks gave him a ruddy appearance and also told people what he liked to do in his off-time. Though his love of whiskey never followed him into the job.
    “Hey, Jack, what do you have?”
    Raymonds turned slowly at her question and took a moment before he responded. He was old school, never really believed women should be a part of the force. They’d had a couple of run-ins before she’d been selected for the Counterterrorism Bureau.
    “Officer Harrison, to what do I owe this honor?” He narrowed his eyes at Joe as he spoke.
    “That’s Detective Harrison. It’s understandable you might forget in your advancing years.” She grinned at him innocently.
    “Cut the crap, Alyssa. What are you doing here? Last I heard, the fancy pants in the Bureau weren’t interested in day-to-day police work.”
    “I got a call that this case might interest me.”
    He scowled. “Make sure you remember that this is my case.”
    She held up her hands. “It’s all yours. I’m just here to observe.”
    He surveyed Alyssa until she raised an eyebrow at him, keeping her face calm.
    Jack grunted. “Well, I hope you haven’t had breakfast. We’ve got a jumper.” He turned and stomped over to the edge of the platform. She followed and swallowed hard when she looked down.
    Clothing, blood, and bits of body parts made a macabre collage on the tracks below her. The train had done a serious number on the guy. She’d known it would be messy, of course.
    A young officer waited on the tracks, a few steps from the mangled body, his nose scrunched but his eyes eager.
    “Any ID?” she asked the rookie.
    “Not that I can see, Detective,” he said.
    “Satisfied?” Jack asked, watching her, not the scene.
    She looked back at the victim. “Brown hair, jeans, and looks like a camouflage jacket. Probably male. Maybe homeless.” Something jostled in her memory as she stated the description out loud.
    “The M.E. should be here any minute to clear the body,” Jack said. He checked his watch.
    She pressed her lips together. She had a job to do, and she wouldn’t allow Raymonds’ impatience to stop her.
    She jumped down onto the tracks beside the rookie. He stepped back and almost tripped over the nearby train rail. She ignored him and knelt. A hand, severed just above the wrist, lay by the rail. Dirt encrusted the fingernails.
    Blood soaked the dark dirt around the tracks. The smell of shit, guts, and blood dragged memories to the surface that she tried to keep buried. She breathed through her mouth but the smells seemed to coat her throat with a slickness that made her want to gag.
    “Definitely homeless,” she forced herself to say over the rising bile. “See the hand? The grime indicates a life on the streets.” She moved to where the head lay. It had been somewhat hidden by the shadow of the platform, but she knelt by the bearded face. The