The Passion Of Sam Broussard
"Looks like Lizzie's running late this morning.""When I called Sergeant Scott, she said she would meet me in her office." Sam Broussard scowled at the short, balding detective who'd led him to the closed door at one end of a murky basement corridor in the Oklahoma City P.D.'s headquarters building. "Eight o'clock sharp."
The cop who'd introduced himself as Kostka slid a key into the door's lock and swung it open, releasing a whiff of musty air into the hallway. The space beyond the door reminded Sam of a windowless black cave.
It matched his dark mood.
"When did Lizzie make that appointment with you?" Kostka asked while reaching in and flipping on the office's overhead lights. "I called her from Shreveport two weeks ago today," Sam answered, wondering why the hell that mattered.
"She said she was flying to Vegas that afternoon to get married, and would be back at work this morning."
Which was the start of the first leave time Sam had taken since the tragedy that had thrown his world out of whack. Time off his lieutenant had ordered him to take.
Kostka rubbed his double chin. "That'd explain it."
"Explain what?"
"Lizzie's experienced a few
... read full excerpt from The Passion of Sam Broussard ebook
