Free Killing Katie (An Affair With Murder) (Volume 1) by B.A. Spangler Page A

as my husband spoke to me, and for a moment I didn’t see a cop. I saw the man I fell in love with. I watched as his brow creased and then rose, pushing worry lines across his forehead. I watched as his mouth pursed and then relaxed. I watched as his lips parted to reveal perfectly straight teeth. I watched as his gorgeous sky-blue eyes stayed fixed on me, following me. I felt a sudden weakness and a flutter in my stomach that only came when he looked at me like that. No other man has ever made me feel the way Steve does.
    As I listened to Steve’s questions, keeping my answers short and never forfeiting information, some of what Nerd showed me came to mind. The idea of making real money seemed to be moving into the realm of possibility. With Nerd helping me, I could do this. I wanted to do this. From the Deep Web, I would connect with the people who wanted what I had to offer and were willing to pay for it. And they were going to pay a lot. There’d be a time when Steve wouldn’t be a cop anymore . . . one could hope, anyway.
    “Amy?” I heard my name and swam up through the dreamy daze of what could be if we had the money and the time, as Steve had reminded me. “Amy?”
    “Sorry, are you done being a cop? I want to talk to my husband.”
    “Just one more.”
    Of course I tensed, but let him ask his last question. Steve wore his cop senses like a coat, putting them on whenever the truth seemed cold. I must have said something wrong in my short answers while thinking about how to pay for law school. It could be that he was trying to find out if I really had been shopping for the holidays—he always figured out what I got for him.
    Should have used that excuse instead.
    At one point, a nervous laugh found its way to the back of my throat and the fear of it spilling out became so powerful that I began to sweat.
    Did he notice? Would he notice?
    “And the book?” he asked, wording the question differently. “What was the book you were reading at the library?”
    “A Hundred-and-One Sexual Positions for Dummies,” I answered jokingly, and then motioned with my hands, pantomiming sexual intercourse until Steve began to laugh: the finger in the hole motion did the trick. “Are we done now?”
    “Yeah, we’re done,” he said, still laughing. I’d made it through my first round of questioning and thought I should feel giddy, or feel relief, or feel something. This was a milestone for me. But instead, I felt conflicted.
    Could I get used to lying to Steve?
    “If you’re going to be around the library, be careful. A young girl, pretty too, was attacked earlier this week.”
    I remembered hearing the story on the radio. It never occurred to me that Steve might be working the case. “How is she doing?” I asked, thinking what happened to her was far from what I wanted to achieve. The distinction was simple: the world would miss her . “Radio said that she was in critical condition?”
    “She’s stable. Lost a lot of blood,” he answered as he motioned his hand across his neckline. Watching Steve reenact the attack put a lump in my throat, catching me off guard. I felt bad for the young woman. “The kids are downstairs. Snacks is fine, busy tearing through her toys. But Michael was worried when you didn’t come home.”
    The kids. I got a knot in my stomach and bit down on my lip. My lies weren’t just going to be to Steve. Not now. And certainly not later. It was easier when Michael was younger. Steve and I could do and say a lot more around him without his knowing the context.
    A child’s innocence, I thought. It was like a shield, guarding them against knowing what the adult talk was about. But Michael had become more grown-up and more curious, and we’d begun to filter what was said around him.
    “Playing video games?” I asked. Steve nodded, and I leaned in to kiss him. I wrapped my arms around his middle and put my head against his chest. I stayed there like that, listening to his heart and