Read Alone in the Dark for Free Online Page B

shrugged. ‘It’s as good a place to start as any.’ He turned his odd bi-colored eyes on Marcus in a cool stare. ‘I’ll need your gun.’
    Marcus was glad he’d had the opportunity to get used to Deacon’s eyes in the less stressful, more social environment of their family get-togethers. Otherwise he might have been startled into making an admission he’d regret later. They were half brown, half blue, each iris split down the middle. At first glance, the sight was unsettling. A little mesmerizing. Marcus was certain that Deacon used his eyes to the greatest advantage during interrogations.
    Now, Marcus simply returned Deacon’s stare without a blink. ‘What makes you think I have a gun?’
    Deacon rolled those odd eyes. ‘Because you’re wearing Kevlar and a damn camera,’ he said once again. ‘You’re wasting my time, Marcus.’
    Yes, he was, Marcus realized, and was suddenly ashamed of himself. Because as soon as he gave them his gun, they’d let him go. Scarlett would walk away to do her job. And he’d be alone again. Which was even more pathetic than it sounded in his head.
    ‘You’re right.’ He dropped to one knee and removed the pocket-sized Sig from its ankle holster, then straightened his spine and placed the gun in Deacon’s outstretched palm.
    Deacon sniffed the barrel. ‘You didn’t fire tonight.’
    ‘No. I drew my weapon, but the shooter was gone. It was fired two days ago, at the range. Your CSU guy did a gun residue test before you got here. It was negative.’
    Deacon didn’t blink. ‘You could have worn gloves.’
    ‘I didn’t.’ He ventured a glance at Scarlett, found her gaze watchful. And aware of him in a way that she probably shouldn’t be. In a way that made his skin heat. In a way that had nothing to do with fury and everything to do with . . . want.
    ‘What about your knife?’ she asked, her cool tone at odds with the look in her eyes.
    Caught off guard, he blinked, his brain backtracking quickly. ‘My knife?’
    ‘You cut her shirt,’ she said quietly, ‘when you tried to stop her bleeding. The knife you used will have her blood on it. Where is it?’
    Annoyed for allowing himself to be surprised, he dug in his pocket and pulled out the folding knife he never left home without. ‘I want it back,’ he muttered as he dropped it into the evidence bag she held out.
    She tilted the bag toward the crime-scene unit’s spotlights so that she could examine the knife’s hilt. ‘This is very nice.’ She glanced at him again. ‘Army issue?’
    If she knew he’d been army, she’d been checking up on him. He wondered how deep she’d dug, how much she’d learned. ‘Surplus store,’ he said, uttering the half-truth smoothly. The knife he’d handed over to Bishop was the same one he’d carried through combat. It had saved his life more times than he wanted to count, and he’d found himself curiously unable to part with it when his tour was up. When the time had come to turn in his gear, he’d bought a replacement of the same make to give back to the army. He’d carried the knife since the day he’d come home from the Gulf . . . just because. Okay, fine . It was a security blanket. He was man enough to admit that. Just barely.
    He hadn’t started carrying the gun until after he’d worked at the newspaper for a few months – and made a few enemies right here in Cinci. The list had grown considerably over the years, but he wouldn’t undo a single deed he’d done.
    Except . . . Damn, he hoped Tala had been the target. He didn’t want to consider that she’d been killed because of him. He looked up, troubled. ‘She was just a kid.’
    Scarlett’s shoulders sagged, softening her almost military stance. ‘Your brother Mikhail’s age,’ she murmured, compassion darkening her eyes. ‘I’m so sorry, Marcus.’
    Meeting her gaze, he felt it again. That spark between them. That connection. ‘Thank you.’
    Discomfort flickered across her features