Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 68459 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 342(@200wpm)___ 274(@250wpm)___ 228(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68459 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 342(@200wpm)___ 274(@250wpm)___ 228(@300wpm)
She moved into the light of the building, and I recognized her from earlier.
The woman with the Corolla.
I’d had the same visceral reaction to her then, having seen and tried to convince her to move her car for all of three minutes. But she’d been holding down a two-year-old with two broken wrists, and I’d let her be.
It was either that, or get mad she wasn’t acknowledging me, and I’d been too damn tired for that. I’d been running on four hours of sleep, a hope, and a prayer.
Earlier she’d been in scrubs with her hair up, and partially blocked by the table she’d been holding that kid down on. She’d been wearing a thick vest that was supposed to help with the radiation, and a lethal scowl that let me know she didn’t want to deal with any of my shit.
Now, her hair was cascading down her back and looked like it’d been artfully styled instead of her just rolling out of bed like I knew she did.
I was going to fucking hell.
There I was, checking out this woman in her short shorts, tank top, and boots, and she was having the worst day of her life.
But goddamn, there was only so much a man could take.
I was going on a four-month dry spell, and obviously it was affecting my work now.
Maybe I needed to look up an old friend…
The boots stomped, and I looked down at them.
They were encasing a thick leg, and it was jiggling with each tap of her boot.
Muck boots.
Why was she wearing muck boots?
“Are you even listening to me?” she asked snidely.
I looked up at her face to see her staring—no, glaring—at me.
“I’m sorry, did you say something?” I asked.
Because had she said something and I hadn’t listened, that would be par for the course tonight.
“No, she didn’t,” Garrett offered helpfully.
Angry girl whipped her head in his direction. “And who are you?”
“I’m Garrett Carter, this one’s brother,” Garrett explained.
“Hmmph,” Angry girl said. “Can you tell me what’s going on here?”
That’s when my stomach sank.
Half an hour ago, Keda’s mother said that she needed to call Keda’s best friend, Hollis.
But she’d been too distraught to call.
Therefore, I’d been the one to call.
And now the woman was standing there, and I had to tell her that her friend had just taken her own life.
Fuck.
It’d be a lot easier if Amazon just sent me one of everything they have.
—Hollis’ secret thoughts
HOLLIS
“Hey, Denita!” I sang as I answered the phone. “How’s our girl?”
There was a long pause, and then, “Sorry, honey, but this isn’t Denita. This is Detective Quincy Carter with Dallas Police Department. Denita asked me to call you.”
My stomach sank.
Not even the deep, rumbly, beautiful sounding voice on the other end of the line could control the panic that started to roll through my heart.
“Is Keda okay?” I rasped, terror leeching into my voice.
“I’m sorry, honey, but no. She’s not okay.”
She’s not okay.
She’s not okay.
She’s not okay.
“Is she…” I hesitated.
I couldn’t finish the sentence. Couldn’t say it.
“Sorry, honey. It’s not good,” Officer Carter murmured, using that endearment again that had a way of warming my heart while simultaneously breaking it.
I sank to my knees in the middle of my bedroom.
Nothing could take the heartache that passed through me at the news of my best friend being gone.
“What happened?” I asked.
Instead of answering, though, he said, “Can you come over to Keda’s place?”
Which led me to now, standing in front of the man who’d called me earlier, giving me the warm fuzzies while also scaring the shit out of me.
“What happened?” I asked again.
He stared at me for a long time, then jerked his head at his brother. “Can you go find out where… never mind. There he is.”
‘He’ obviously meant the man with the police cruiser.
The man driving pulled the cruiser right up to the curb, then got out, handing the officer in front of me the keys.
I studied the man who got the keys from the other officer.
He was obviously this man’s superior in some way.
Officer Quincy Carter was tall, well built, and intense.
I couldn’t see much of his face due to the darkness surrounding us, but it didn’t take a genius to match him up to the man who’d come into the ER wanting me to move my car in the middle of an emergency.
I also knew his name from the ticket that’d been tacked to my windshield earlier.
Even slightly wet from the misting rain, it’d been blatant and bold enough for me to see.
“Come over here, please,” the officer urged, leaving his brother and the inferior officer behind.
I followed behind, nervous.
Which obviously was when I started blurting out my words.
“You’re the one who issued me that parking violation earlier,” I muttered darkly.
“I am?” he asked in surprise.
“You are,” I confirmed.
“How do you know it was me?” Officer Quincy Carter asked.