Read Beyond Reach for Free Online

back left pocket. He trotted down the rickety front stairs, counting a wad of money he held in his meaty hands.
    He looked up, saw Lena, and gave a dismissive snort before climbing into the white Cadillac. The SUV’s twenty-two-inch wheels kicked up dust as he backed out of the driveway and swung out into the street beside her Celica. The Escalade was about a yard longer than her car and at least two feet wider. The roof was so high she couldn’t see over the top. The side windows were heavily tinted, but the front ones were rolled down, and she could clearly see the driver.
    He’d stopped close enough to crowd her between the two cars, his beady eyes staring a hole into her. Time slowed, and she saw that he was older than she’d thought, that his shaved head was not a fashion statement but a complement to the large red swastika tattooed on his bare upper arm. Coarse black hair grew in a goatee and mustache around his mouth, but she could still see the sneer on his fat, wet lips.
    Lena had been a cop long enough to know a con, and the driver had been a con long enough to know that she was a cop. Neither one of them was about to back down, but he won the standoff by shaking his head, as if to say, “What a fucking waste.” His wifebeater shirt showed rippling muscles as he shifted into gear and peeled off.
    Lena was left standing in his wake.
Five, six, seven…
she counted the seconds, standing her ground in the middle of the road as she waited for the Cadillac to make the turn, taking her out of sight of the guy’s rearview mirrors.
    Once the car was gone, she went around to the passenger’s side of the Celica and found the six-inch folding knife she kept under the seat. She slipped this into her back pocket, then got her Glock out of the glove compartment. She checked the safety on the gun and clipped the holster to her belt. Lena did not want to meet the man again, especially unarmed.
    Walking toward the house, she wouldn’t let her mind consider the reasons why such a person would be at her uncle’s house. You didn’t drive a car like that in a town like Reese by working at the tire factory. You sure as shit didn’t leave somebody’s house flashing a wad of money unless you knew that no one was going to try to take it off you.
    Her hands were shaking as she walked toward the house. The doorjamb had splintered from being slammed so hard, or maybe from being kicked open. Pieces of rotting wood and rusting metal jutted into the air near the knob, and Lena used the toe of her shoe to push open the door.
    “Hank?” she called, fighting the urge to draw her weapon. The man in the Escalade was gone, but his presence still lingered. Something bad had happened here. Maybe something bad was still going on.
    Being a cop had given Lena a healthy respect for her instinct. You learned to listen to your gut when you were a rookie. It wasn’t something that could be taught at the academy. Either you paid attention to the hairs sticking up on the back of your neck or you got shot in the chest on your first call by some whacked-out drug addict who thought the aliens were trying to get him.
    Lena pulled the Glock, pointed it at the floor. “Hank?”
    No answer.
    She stepped carefully through the house, unable to tell if the place had been tossed or if Hank just hadn’t bothered to straighten up in a while. There was an unpleasant odor in the air, something chemical, like burned plastic, mixed with the usual reek of cigarettes from Hank’s chain-smoking and chicken grease from the takeout he got every night. Newspapers were scattered on the living room couch. Lena leaned down, checked the dates. Most were over a month old.
    Cautiously, she walked down the hallway, weapon still drawn. Lena and Sibyl’s bedroom door stood open, the beds neatly made. Hank’s room was another matter. The sheets were bunched up at the bottom like someone had suffered a fever dream and an unpleasant brown stain radiated from the center of the