Tom Lange 02-Truth or Dead by Brearton T J

Author:Brearton, T J [Brearton, T J]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Detective, Florida, Murder Investigation, Psychological Suspense, Suspense, Thriller, USA, Special Agent, Crime Boss, Serial Killer
Publisher: Joffe Books crime, thriller, and mystery
Published: 2017-12-11T05:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

“Here it is,” Tom said. “Home sweet home.”

He’d watched their backs every mile between the hotel and here and was as sure as he could be that they hadn’t been followed. They’d entered the gated community where he lived, the security guard giving them quite the look. Otherwise, middle of the night, not a soul around.

“This is where you live?” Olivia asked.

“Yes ma’am.”

“Which one? All the houses look the same.”

“Livy . . .” Heather said.

“Yeah, they do,” Tom said, pulling into his short driveway. And it was a good thing, too. Plus, he’d been in Bonita Springs so briefly he hadn’t even updated his address in the state bureau’s registry yet. The only people who knew he lived here besides Blythe were Katie Mills and Jack Vance.

“They all look the same,” Olivia repeated. “Gnome sayin’?”

Tom shared a glance with Culpepper. The agent formed a crooked grin as Olivia spelled out: “G-n-o-m-e. The ‘G’ is silent. Gnome sayin’?”

He hit the button, the garage door opened and he rolled in, killed the engine, pressed the button again and the garage closed up.

Safe.

“Alright girls,” Heather said. She started unstrapping their harnesses. “Ready?”

Abigail was fully awake. “Eddy!”

Tom got out, circled round to Olivia and helped her out. She had rings of fatigue beneath the bright pools of her eyes. Tom thought she looked a lot like her mother. “You a spelling bee champ or what?”

“No. I got third place in the spelling bee.”

“Well that’s alright,” Tom said.

Culpepper helped Abigail and Heather out the other side, then they made their way into the condo. Heather took the girls upstairs to get them settled back into bed.

Tom went into the kitchen with Culpepper, got them a glass of water each. They listened to upstairs commotion — the patter of little feet down the hallway, the running of tap water, flushing of the toilet. The soft murmur of Heather’s voice and occasional chirp from Abigail.

“Nice place,” Culpepper said.

“I thought it was more than I needed.”

“Well you never know when you’re going to have refugees staying over.” He drank the last of his water with a gulp. “Where do you want me, boss?”

Tom collected the glasses and brought them to the sink. “You know I started up with the department six months after you, right?”

“You mentioned while we were on GP. But you’re still the boss anyway.”

“Thanks for this, Damien.”

He could still feel the adrenaline, like an electric current through his body. And something else, more than a mere sense of duty to Heather’s girls, an ache to keep them safe.

Standing in the doorway, Culpepper winked. They’d kept the kitchen lights off, but the agent was faintly backlit by the lone illuminated lamp in the living room.

“No prob,” Culpepper said. “I still have three hours on my shift. You want me right out in front of the door?”

“That would be great; keep out of sight if you can.”

“I’ll check in with you at six.”

Culpepper was quiet as he stepped out of the condo.

* * *

Tom heard soft footfalls coming down the carpeted stairs.

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