Read Missouri Loves Company (Rip Lane Book 1) for Free Online Page B

anybody.”
    “You weren’t showing photos and asking questions?”
    “That’s not harassment,” I said. “Breaking a taillight? Now that’s harassment.”
    Officer Miller grinned. He kept his eyes on me while he spoke to his partner out of the side of his mouth.
    “You hear that, Owen? Smart-ass here thinks I’m harassing him.”
    “I heard it, Artie.”
    Officer Miller poked me with his nightstick.
    “How’s that for harassment, eh?” he said.
    I did not make the bastard cop eat the twenty-four inches of hardwood he held in his hand. I let him get away with it. This time.
    “Those photos you were showing around,” Officer Miller said, “you’re hoping somebody can identify the people in them?”
    I didn’t say anything.
    “You’re trying to find the people in the photos?”
    I didn’t say anything.
    “Who are they?”
    “You and your boyfriend,” I said.
    Officer Miller raised his nightstick.
    I elbowed him in the crotch.
    He grunted and doubled over.
    Officer Brown drew his gun and came over to cuff me.
    When he was done he held me from behind so that Officer Miller could sucker punch me in my solar plexus.
    Then they shoved me into the back of the patrol car.
    “You haven’t read me my rights.”
    Officer Miller leaned his head into the car, thrust his face close to mine. He had recently eaten horseradish sauce.
    “You have the right to get your ass kicked. You have the right to bleed profusely. You have the right . . .”
    “I’ll waive my rights.”

CHAPTER 19
     
     
    T HE P OTTSLAND JAIL was like the town itself—old and dilapidated.
    A guard led me into a cell and locked me in. It was eight feet by eight feet, with a filthy toilet and sink, and a steel bed bolted to the floor. There were no cockroaches. The place was too dirty for them.
    The guard left and I was alone.
    Nobody had read me my rights. Or booked me. Or charged me. Or even allowed me to make a phone call.
    I was hungry.
    I wondered when breakfast would be served. I wondered if it would be served.
    My stomach growled. I growled back at it.
    I lay down on the thin mattress and laced my fingers behind my head and crossed my ankles and closed my eyes and thought about things.
    Why did the cops stop me? How did they know what I had been doing at the Nobody Inn? Had the bartender contacted them? If so, why?
    Maybe it wasn’t the bartender who had contacted the police. Maybe it was one of the customers. Maybe somebody had recognized Anna and the two goons in the pictures.
    Maybe, maybe, maybe.
    I had no idea what was going on. Which wasn’t unusual. Because things are not always what they seem to be. What at first appears to be a bad thing often turns out to be a good thing. And what at first appears to be a good thing often turns out to be a bad thing—my marriage, for instance.
    Being locked up in jail did not seem like a good thing. Nothing about my experience in Pottsland seemed like a good thing.
    I was supposed to be retired, no longer dealing with law enforcement, no longer dealing with trouble. And yet I was now once again dealing with both.
    I savored the irony.
    Anna had screwed up my retirement plans. Pretty faces have often led me astray. I was tired of it. I was hoping to spend less and less of my time thinking about women, and more and more of my time thinking about writing novels.
    Lying on the bed, staring at the ceiling of my jail cell, I began to think about writing novels.
    Then my thoughts turned to Anna.

CHAPTER 20
     
     
    T HEY CAME FOR me in the early morning. Four of them. I was not surprised to see the two cops who had arrested me, but I had not expected to see the two goons from the bus station. Both goons were wearing Armani suits. Both cops were wearing uniforms. I was the only one without a matching partner.
    The four men stepped into my cell and closed the door. The lock clicked into place behind them.
    I got up from the bed and stood with my feet planted apart and my hands at my sides. I