Unidentified Flying Suspect (Illegal Alien Book 2) by Carrie Harris

Author:Carrie Harris [Harris, Carrie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: UNKNOWN
Published: 2017-01-03T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 19

As I climbed out of my car in the staff lot, I rehearsed what I intended to say to Hardwicke. My initial approach would determine how the rest of the conversation would go. If I rubbed him the wrong way off the bat, he wasn’t going to listen to me at all. The brainstorming might have been an excellent idea, but it had the side effect of distracting me from my usual vigilance. Usually, I kept at high alert in parking lots in general and the department lot in particular. I’d put away plenty of people who would have liked to make me pay for it, and parking lots made great ambush points. I’d caught quite a few criminals in them unawares, and I knew all too well that the tables could be easily turned.

But given the crazy pace of the last few days, I couldn’t maintain my customary levels of awareness. Frankly, I felt lucky to still be on my feet and speaking words of more than one syllable. When the woman in the burka—the one I’d met in the gym about a million years ago, or so it felt—snuck up on me for the second time in as many days, I had an excuse for not noticing her until the last second and squealing like a frightened puppy when I turned and came face-to-face with her black garb and lashless eyes. It didn’t keep me from feeling like a total idiot, but at least I was a justified idiot.

“Wait,” she said, holding up her gloved hands. But the reassurance came too late; I had already backed away from her instinctively. It only took a moment before I recovered and glared at her. People who snuck up on police and military officers had no common sense. At least she seemed to realize she’d made a mistake, because her body language turned sheepish, folding in on itself. “Please. Don’t dismiss me until you hear what I have to say.”

“Lady, you’re about five seconds away from being slapped with a protective order. If you have something to tell me, you’d better make it quick.”

I had all the sympathy in the world for mental illness. Really I did. I’d spent the past few months wondering if I was losing my grip on reality, and that had been more than enough insight for me. I wouldn’t wish that kind of self-doubt on my worst enemy, but that didn’t mean I was willing to be accosted by a mental patient every time I turned around. It would interfere with my ability to do my job, and I had enough crazy of my own to deal with. I didn’t need her fuckwits and casserole pans and whatever else she’d been raving about before.

“Please,” she repeated, her lisp drawing the word out into an almost snakelike hiss. “I want to talk to you about the UFOs.”

The bottom dropped out of my stomach. “Beg pardon?”

“The UFOs. You have seen them.”

It sounded like a statement to me,

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