Read Ghost Walking (A Maggie York Paranormal Mystery Book 1) for Free Online Page B

are you going to do about it?”
    “What’s it going to take? A call to your captain? Wouldn’t look good for a detective who wants to be reinstated.”
    “Are you kidding?” she snapped. He’d struck a nerve. “They’re never going to take me back. I’m damaged goods.”
    He looked at her then. A level look. “Giving up? That surprises me. Doesn’t fit your reputation. But that’s your business, I guess.”
    Suddenly uncertain, Maggie didn’t say anything. She didn’t have an answer.
    “OK, what would you do if our roles were reversed?” he asked.
    “I’d haul your ass to jail.”
    “Yeah, that figures.” Brandt leaned back on the bench and rested one arm on the top slat. He seemed to debate what to say next. “How’d you find Hurst’s apartment?”
    Uh-oh. Now what could she say? A little ghost told me? Anonymous tip? No, too lame. “A CI pointed me in the right direction.”
    “Private citizens don’t have confidential informants.” She shrugged, and he grimaced at her silence. “OK, I’ll give you a pass on that one. Find anything interesting?”
    Maggie hesitated an instant too long, and he leaned forward, holding out his hand, inviting her to turn it over. When she didn’t move, he cocked his head. “Don’t make me search you.”
    “Geez, Brandt.” She didn’t doubt he’d do it. It might be interesting to see him try, but she pulled the notebook from her jeans’ pocket. “I didn’t get a chance to look at the contents, but he’d hidden it under the mattress. It might be important.”
    The detective took it and flipped it open. “Dates, initials, numbers.” He sat forward and held it where she could see. “Mean anything to you?”
    “It’s the kind of record a bookie keeps. Drug drops?”
    “Yeah, maybe. These initials could be contacts. Either buyers or sellers.”
    She leaned closer to read the notations, and her arm brushed his. The contact made her skin tingle, she moved away, and his mouth curved in a brief smile. Dammit. He saw entirely too much. “Could be a lot of things,” she said levelly. “How do we match them up with people?”
    “ We don’t. Nice try, York, but you’re off this case—as of now. Out of courtesy, I’ll keep you informed of any major developments, but I don’t want to see you trespassing or sneaking away with the evidence again.”
    “I wasn’t sneaking,” she said indignantly. Then added, “Well, I wouldn’t have been if you hadn’t surprised me. I would have given you the book if it turned out to be important.”
    “Then I saved you the trouble.” He stood, six feet two of temptation, and offered a hand. “Come with me. In return for not arresting you, I need you to do something for me.”
     
    * * *
     
     
    Maggie froze at the public courtyard entrance and stared at the darkening scene: white stone walls on all sides, wide, black iron gates in the middle of each end offered access to an area of red brick walkways, a few small trees, several fragrant flower beds, benches, and a fountain. A growing sense of dread churned in her stomach. Brandt had insisted she come back to the scene of her shooting and walk him through what she remembered. A reasonable request, but she hadn’t been there since the night they hauled her out on a stretcher. Since Coridan, the initial lead cop on her case, had been there during the shooting, she hadn’t been forced to go over the details. Not till now. She’d tried to block the actual events from her mind. In fact, it had been somewhat hazy, and she’d preferred it that way. Now, this persistent cop was asking her to relive that horrible night. She shivered.
    Brandt stepped up behind her and put his hands on her shoulders as if sensing her need for support. She should have pulled away, but it steadied her, and she stood without protest.
    “What brought you here that night?” His voice was matter-of-fact.
    “An anonymous tip to Vice.” The steadiness of her voice surprised her. Apparently it