Read Dead Run for Free Online Page B

paraphernalia.
    Carla whistled low, under her breath. Ecstasy. Cocaine. Mirrors. Razor blades. She lifted her gaze to Val’s. “Drugs, sex and rock ’n’ roll. So much for the image of the buttoned-down banker.”
    â€œTrust me, this guy didn’t miss a trick. Check this out.”
    Val opened the top left vanity drawer, revealing vials of prescription drugs lined up in neat rows, like small, brown soldiers.
    Carla pulled on the rubber gloves she always carried and sifted through them, reading the labels. Zanax. Quaalude. Vicadin. Prozac. “Seems Bernhardt had a dependency problem.”
    â€œIt would seem so.” Val frowned. “Notice that the same doctor’s name appears on all these labels. I want you to pay him a visit. Let’s make sure he had a medical reason for prescribing these drugs. Let’s find out how the combination could have been affecting Bernhardt’s moods.”
    â€œGot it.”
    â€œCharlie’s been called?”
    Charlie was a local mortician whose funeral parlor housed bodies until the medical examiner, who serviced all the keys and was located on Marathon Key, could pick them up.
    She answered that he had and followed Val back out to the bedroom.
    She watched as he moved his gaze assessingly over the room. Valentine Lopez was one of the smartest people she had ever known. She loved to watch him work. The truth was, he awed her.
    â€œThe pieces don’t fit,” he murmured, looking at her. “This is the home of a millionaire.”
    â€œHe could have family money,” Carla offered. “Or he could have been dealing.”
    â€œCould have,” Val agreed. “When we finish up here, I want you to head over to Island National. Talk to Bernhardt’s boss. Find out the man’s salary, if he comes from money, if he recently came into some sort of windfall—an inheritance, big bonus, winning lottery ticket, anything like that.”
    Carla took out her spiral and carefully noted Val’s requests, word for word. She had no illusions about being a super sleuth. She was a meat-and-potatoes kind of cop: dependable, conscientious and loyal, both to Val and the department. Those were all good qualities. Admirable. She was proud of them.
    But a whiz kid she would never be. She would never be the one who broke the big case, never be the one who uncovered the missing piece of the puzzle or made the front page of the Key West Citizen.
    Valentine Lopez was. Rick Wells was.
    At the thought of Rick, her chest tightened. They had been partners and friends. Then she had made the mistake of falling in love with him. A mistake because he had been a man incapable of loving her back—first because he had been reeling over the loss of his wife, then his son.
    As if loving him from afar was stupid enough, she had allowed him to use her for physical solace.
    Use her? She had thrown herself at him, had all but begged him to become her lover. She had been certain he would fall in love with her. He had been in so much pain. He would be grateful. Gratitude would become need, love would follow.
    She had been blinded by love. Had allowed wishful thinking to pass for logic. The moment he began emerging from his grief-induced fog, he had felt guilty. Because he didn’t love her. Because he felt like a heel,an opportunist. And because only then had he realized how much she cared for him.
    It had been over almost before it started.
    It still hurt sometimes more than she could stand.
    â€œSpeak with the housekeeper before you leave,” Val continued, cocking his head. From downstairs came the sound of the other officers arriving. “Ask about Bernhardt’s mood of late, his social life, if he was dating anyone.” He glanced at his watch and started for the door. “We need to contact next of kin. I heard he was divorced. Has a couple grown kids. Keep me informed.”
    â€œI will,” Carla murmured, not lifting her