Mountain Witness. Lena DiazЧитать онлайн книгу.

       Chapter Eight

      Of all the reckless, crazy things that Julie had ever done, sneaking off with Detective Chris Downing was probably the most outrageous and stupid. She couldn’t believe that she’d had the gumption to tiptoe out of the conference room, pausing only briefly as he whispered to his SWAT team members, and then getting into his pickup truck.

      When he’d handed her that tissue in the conference room to wipe her tears, it was as if they were co-conspirators, the two of them against the world. And she’d been just desperate enough to take the lifeline that he’d offered, tricking herself into believing that he was someone she could trust. He’d been what she’d needed most at that very moment—someone to lean on, someone who would keep her safe, be a friend, if only for one night.

      She was such a fool.

      They had a truce, more or less, but she knew the limits. The moment she got up tomorrow he’d probably barrage her with questions, and she wouldn’t have Kathy here to deflect them. She might as well have stayed at the police station.

      As she followed him inside, he paused beside a beeping security alarm keypad and keyed in the security code, disabling it. After locking the door, he set the alarm again and waved his hand to encompass the large open room.

      “This is it,” he said. “Dillon took down most of the walls to give it an open floor plan. As you can see, the kitchen is on the back left. Feel free to grab something if you’re thirsty or hungry.”

      She nodded, noting the granite-topped island that separated the kitchen from the great room. A straight staircase was in front of them, with a small dark hallway opening behind it on the main floor. The room was an eclectic mix of masculine and feminine touches, with dark chunky wood furniture softened by pastel throws and pillows, and rugs scattered across the hardwood floor.