All I had to do was kick Donna Timko out of my head, put my faith in the powers that be to recall every last Chuckburger on earth, and—relax.

“Mommy helped shut down a multimillion-dollar hamburger chain, baby girl,” I said. “I hope so, anyway.”

I unbuttoned my jacket, took the band out of my hair, and shook out my pony. Julie babbled happily as we turned west on Lake and took a left onto 12th, heading into the seven-block-long straightaway to the park.

I said, “So, the dog run, right, Julie? Or you want to see the birdies in Stow Lake? I’m pretty sure you got your eyes and your hair from dear old dad, but when it comes to dogs, you take after—”

Julie interrupted me with a long string of baby foolery, beating the air with her hands—soooo cute—making me laugh. I stopped to kiss her face and then we pushed along the eclectic residential block to the intersection at California, where I paused for the light.

I tried to imagine having a day like this every day. And the idea held some appeal. Sunshine, baby and me, and if I actually wasn’t working, we would go home in a bit, have Gerber mixed veggies and turkey, and then take a nap.

The light changed and we crossed the road and headed toward Clement, entering the business section of the Richmond District. Traffic was congested. Car horns and radios blared and—holy crap! I saw something I just didn’t like.

Gripping the handlebar of the stroller, I started to run.

I used the crowded sidewalk as a buffer, looking ahead of me and on both sides all at the same time. All I cared about was Julie. Getting her out of sight.

I stepped on a crack in the sidewalk, turning my ankle, but I recovered my balance before I dropped. Julie wasn’t aware that I’d almost gone down, because I kept the stroller steady. A clot of teens were taking up the breadth of the sidewalk, smoking cigarettes, texting, and joking around.

I screamed at them to get the fuck out of my way.

They yelled back, but they made way for me, and I kept going, running fast and furious.

Between 12th and 11th, I turned onto Clement and stayed on the south side, which was lined with a wall-to-wall row of shops.

There was an alcove halfway up the block, an entrance to a Chinese restaurant. I shoved the stroller down the stone steps and stumbled behind it, hiding behind the alcove to the shuttered Wing Ho’s Happy Eating.

Julie was wailing now, and I stood between her carriage and the street, semi-protected by the wings of the alcove and pretty much out of plain sight.

I watched, and when I felt it was safe, I grabbed my child and held her over my shoulder. I picked up the stroller with my free hand, took the stairs up to the sidewalk, and ducked into the boutique next door, Rosalie’s Fanfare.

I found a shopgirl at the back of the store. She was wearing a black tunic, tight pants, and black leather boots to her knees. She froze and stared at me with huge black-ringed eyes.

I tucked my baby into the stroller and said, “I’m a cop. On a case.”

I opened my jacket, showed her the badge pinned inside and my gun on my hip. Then I touched Julie’s head and said, “Honey. I’ll be right back.”

The shopgirl said, “No, no, you can’t leave her here.”

I said, “You. Watch. Her.”

The baby’s cries followed me as I went back toward the front of the store. I bumped hard into a woman coming out of a dressing room. She fell back against a bunch of cartons that tumbled like a stack of blocks.

The sound of the customer’s curses mingled with Julie’s screams as I made for the shop’s front door.

The weight of a human female heart is about nine ounces. Every bit of mine was with my baby, as if that small pounding muscle could protect her.

CHAPTER 105

I HAD MY gun out before I exited Rosalie’s Fanfare.

I stood in the doorway, peering out onto Clement Street. I checked out the pedestrians on both sides and stared into the shadows and the glaring sections of pavement.

I was sure that I’d seen a woman who could pass as a teenage boy—a lean five foot six with an angular face, wearing boyfriend jeans and a hoodie, hands in the pockets and possibly holding a gun.

It was Morales. Wasn’t it?

I always said I’d know Mackie Morales in a grizzly bear suit. I’d spent three months with her in her role as a summer intern. She was lethal as a rattlesnake and crazy as a loon.

Tags: James Patterson Women's Murder Club Mystery
Source: readsnovelonline.net