Twisted Innocence (Moonlighters Series Book 3) Read Online Free Page A

into his flimsy garbage bag. It was raining, but the work wasn’t finished, so there was no way Lieutenant Rafferty would take the work crew back to the jail. Michael worked faster, hoping to get the job done. But some of the others continued to work slowly, as if they’d rather get soaked than go back to that place.
    Being a trustee allowed to go out on the work crew was a privilege, earned only through months of good behavior. It broke up the hours of monotony, sitting in the cell with the same faces day after day, the same fights, the same insanity among the mentally ill, the same rage of hungry addicts, and the bitter, angry offenders who found themselves locked up.
    Someone honked a horn, and Michael looked up. A car full of teenaged girls drove by, laughing and waving, mocking them. He looked down at his green-and-white-stripedDr. Seuss pants, society’s assurance that none of the inmates would ever be mistaken for the general public.
    When he got out of jail, he would never wear stripes again.
    He was here for breaking the law, illegally using a firearm when he was a convicted felon. Though he’d been helping break up the biggest drug ring ever to work this area, and defending his friend and her kidnapped children, he couldn’t deny that he’d violated probation. There was a penalty for that, and he had to accept it. Juliet and her kids were safe, which made a year behind bars worth it.
    He’d filled his bag, so he tied it up and left it where the garbage men could pick it up, then went back to the truck to get another one. The drivers waiting for the light to change kept their eyes focused ahead of them, as if afraid to glance in the prisoners’ direction. He heard a click—someone locking his doors.
    Michael pulled a garbage bag off its roll, shook it out. “Hogan, cross the street and start over there,” Rafferty shouted.
    Michael nodded. Rafferty wouldn’t let cars get between himself and most of the other inmates, but he trusted Michael. He’d known him back when Michael was a detective on the Panama City police force. He’d been one of Michael’s sympathizers when he was convicted, and he’d vouched for him and gotten him on the work crew at the earliest opportunity.
    Michael went to the crosswalk and waited for the light to change again. It turned yellow, and cars turning left passed in front of him.
    When the crossing light turned green, he stepped out into the street. But the approaching SUV didn’t slow, and Michael jumped back just as it rounded the corner. His gaze connected with the driver.
    No way. It couldn’t be him!
    Michael stared at the driver as the SUV passed. His hair was blond and longer than it had been before . . . He took a few steps in the direction of the SUV, memorizing the tag. LTH 425.
    LTH 425 . . . LTH 425 . . . LTH 425. If only he had a pen.
    He’d have to remember it. Heart racing, he crossed the street and worked on the road cleanup, repeating the number in his mind over and over as he finished his work, constantly glancing up to watch the passing cars. LTH 425. Black Lincoln Navigator, 2012 or 2013.
    Leonard Miller. Did he have the gall to come back into town when he knew so many were looking for him? Was he so pompous that he thought he was invincible?
    If that was him, Michael would find him. Miller wouldn’t get away again. Even from the inside, there were things Michael could do. He wouldn’t rest until his brother’s killer faced the justice he deserved.

CHAPTER 6
    C athy Cramer had never felt so determined. Ever since Michael, her fiancé, had been sentenced to prison, she’d spent every waking moment thinking about how to save him.
    It had been her sister Holly’s idea to start a letter-writing campaign, and even though it was a long shot, she had to believe that a pardon was possible if the governor was barraged with mountains of letters on Michael’s behalf.
    Her blog, Cat’s Curious , was her best means to that end.
    Dear Friends,
    Many thanks to