Fatal Exposure - By Gail Barrett Page 0,14

count. And he’d better keep his wits about him if he hoped to survive.

Chapter 4

Parker wasn’t naive. He understood the need to bend the rules at times if it contributed to the greater good. The problem was, once a man crossed into that gray zone, once he’d blurred the distinction between right and wrong, it became harder to redraw the line.

His father had proven that.

But now here he was, following in his doomed father’s footsteps. Because he couldn’t sugarcoat his actions. He was breaking the rules, pure and simple—the one thing he’d sworn he would never do.

For Tommy’s sake, he reminded himself fiercely. He was fulfilling his promise to his brother and trying to find his killer the only way he could.

But that still didn’t make his actions right.

Cursing the predicament Brynn had put him in, he neared the homicide office—with its fax machine—and glanced around. So far so good. No one had paid any attention to him. Now he just had to slip inside, grab the faxed file off the machine and leave before anyone noticed him here.

Then he’d be done with this subterfuge for good.

He shot another glance back, then stepped inside the room, the din of ringing phones and voices quieting a notch. Getting the file faxed over hadn’t been easy. The overworked people out in western Maryland hadn’t wanted to fill his request. He’d had to use the Colonel’s name, claiming that Hoffman wanted to check the file because of the potential scandal involving the camp. Three uncooperative people later, Parker finally found someone willing to take the time to send him the file without verifying it with Hoffman first.

Picking up his pace now, he walked past the massive copier, dodged the boxes of paper stacked beside a work table and headed to the fax machine. But a rail-thin, silver-haired woman blocked his path, and his hopes instantly tanked. Terry “The Terror” Lewis. The woman who’d investigated his father. She stood beside the machine, holding a sheath of papers—the file he’d requested, no doubt.

His luck had just run out.

She turned at his approach. “Detective McCall,” she rasped in her smoker’s voice. She held up the papers, disapproval on her narrow face. “What are you doing with this?”

So she’d noticed his name on the cover sheet. He couldn’t feign ignorance now. “Just checking the records for a case.”

She frowned, her ice-blue eyes nearly level with his. “Which case is that?”

Parker hesitated. Technically, he didn’t have to answer. Even though she outranked him, Lieutenant Lewis worked in the Criminal Intelligence Section and wasn’t in his chain of command. But she was smart. She’d sniff out any deception fast. Better to sprinkle in enough truth to allay suspicions—and lend his answer legitimacy in case she checked.

“Susie Smith.”

“The kid they found in the Inner Harbor?”

“Right. She was from Emmitsburg. I’m checking the deaths in that general area during the past few years to see if they’re related.”

She arched a brow. She wasn’t buying it—and he didn’t blame her. The connection was ludicrous at best. And this woman was nobody’s fool. Even Hoffman knew better than to take her on.

But he had no choice but to brazen it out. He held out his hand for the file. “Do you mind?” he asked.

She hesitated, obviously reluctant to give it up, then she slapped it into his hand. Parker tucked it under his arm, giving her what he hoped was a civil nod.

He didn’t dislike Terry Lewis, exactly. He probably would have admired her if she hadn’t tried to bring him down. She’d simply been doing her job, conducting an investigation into a towing scam in the traffic unit when she’d stumbled on an even more serious plot. Defying warnings from her fellow officers, she’d persevered, bucking the hallowed Blue Code of Silence to uncover the truth, that his father had extorted payments from prostitutes and drug dealers—a revelation that had rocked the force.

But then she’d turned her suspicions toward him.

And, suddenly, the irony struck him hard. After all those years obeying the rules, after all those years trying to show that he wasn’t the criminal she believed, he was finally proving her right.

Without a word, he exited the room. Then he strode down the corridor to the stairwell, feeling her eyes boring into his back. Perfect. He’d managed to get a copy of the dead girl’s file. But he’d tipped off Terry “The Terror” Lewis.

He hoped it was worth the cost.

* * *

“This had better be worth it,” he muttered an hour