Mortal Crimes: 7 Novels of Suspense by Brett Battles, Robert Gregory Browne, Melissa F. Miller, J. Carson Black, Michael Wallace, M A Comley, Carol Davis Luce Page A

bullets would go right through it. No cover here.
    She stepped back toward the entrance, turned, and scanned the room. The Gerald Grady Insurance office was a narrow oblong going back forty or so feet: filing cabinets along the left-hand wall, one desk, one business chair, one cheap rolling chair. Two-thirds of the way back, the desk came out like a peninsula, perpendicular to the wall and the row of file cabinets. The desk was particle-board with a wood grain veneer and had the usual detritus on it—in and out boxes, a computer. No airline tickets in plain sight—just a framed portrait of Sean Grady and his fiancée looking meaningfully into each other's eyes against a sunset.
    Laura ticked off designations. The desk would offer concealment, but not cover. The file cabinets were too tight into the wall to offer concealment or cover.
    She heard the rumbling of a paper towel dispenser and three quick, violent rips. Muffled footsteps came from the other side of the wall on the right. A few moments later, the front door opened and Sean Grady stepped inside, still fiddling with his cuffs. He looked up, saw her, and his face broke into a friendly grin.
    “Detective Cardinal. To what do I owe this pleasure?”
    Coming at her, holding out a hand, his smile predatory. Automatically, Laura shifted her body slightly so that her right hand crossed her body when they shook. This put her duty weapon a little farther away from Grady, just in case he was entertaining grabbing for it.
    His hand was still damp. Laura thought about Melissa and the bathroom sink. “I came in to take a look at those files you had and see if we could clear it up right now. If you have a minute.” She purposely added this last to see how he would react.
    He didn't disappoint her. “Hey,” he said, spreading his hands, “my files are your files. Why don't you sit down?”
    He pulled his chair away from behind the desk and rolled the customer's chair around so she could use the desk's surface. The chair wobbled on its three casters. It was short and squat, the orange cloth soiled from use. She noticed his own chair was leather and expensive.
    He flicked his eyes to the chair. “Let me clear a space for you.” He shuffled some papers, made a clear spot on the desk, looked back at her as if for approval. “Would you like some coffee? Water?”
    “No thanks.”
    “Sorry it's such a mess, but dealing with Sam Houston Fidelity…” He shook his head—deep disappointment. “You wouldn't believe it. I made a lot of phone calls, but I think…” He opened the second drawer of the file cabinet. “I think I've figured out what's happened.”
    She wondered what he'd come up with. Knew it would be good. She watched him rummage through the drawer, his white shirt pulling up as he reached into the cabinet. The mildew smell much stronger here. Laura wondered how he stood it. She breathed through her mouth.
    The file cabinets were ranged to the immediate right of the desk, so when Grady found the file he wanted, all he had to do was lean slightly to the right and drop it on the desk. He did this now. “Childers? That's Sam Houston, too, as I recall.”
    Laura found herself staring at his back. Thinking how normal he looked. He epitomized a young businessman on his way up. Dark trousers, well cut. A tad ample at the waist, but he could still turn heads. Brown hair topping his collar just enough to give him that slightly-bad-boy-who-won't-follow-rules look. Considering his father owned the place, it didn't seem like much of a statement.
    “Any more?” he asked. Flashing her a smile that was friendly and lazy. The smile made her think of a snake sunning itself on a rock.
    She gave him the rest of the list. He held it in front of him, his face a picture of concentration, rocking back and forth on his heels.
    One drawer slammed shut, another slid open. His manicured thumb snapped another file down. Close to her, almost crowding her out of the space between himself