Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 75478 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 377(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75478 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 377(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
We’d decided that trying to interrogate her in a crowd would be too much for her. So Fallon and Brooks decided that listening outside of the door would have to be good enough.
“The car was where she said it would be,” Perish said when I closed the door. “Found this in it,” he went on, holding out a big crocheted bag done in a bunch of granny squares. I’d bet good money on her having made it herself. “Phone’s in it,” he added.
“Good. Anything else in the car?”
“Found the fake detonator,” Callow said. “But it was just a fucking piece of plastic with a damn pencil eraser glued to it. Guess to someone who doesn’t know better, it might look like the real thing.”
“Before you ask, I didn’t see any prints on it,” Nave said. “I mean, we will look closer. But it seems like he wore gloves.”
“We’ll have to look over every part of the vest, too,” Fallon said. “For any kind of trace evidence. If we find anything solid, we could try to have Junior hack into the NBPD to trace a print. Or have someone in our pockets run it.”
“Okay, sounds good,” I said, reaching into the bag to grab her phone, having to dig past two paperback books, a plastic baggy filled with paper garbage, two random paintbrushes, and a sewing kit. “Anything else you want me to ask her right now?”
“I’ll let you know if we think of anything,” Fallon said. “The OG guys are heading in,” he told me, nodding. Because you knew shit was feeling serious when the retired members of the club felt like it was necessary to get their hands on deck too.
“Probably a good thing. Have a lot of experts in that crew,” I said.
“And Chris is bringing two of her bomb experts in to check out that vest… see if they see something you didn’t.”
Maybe I should have been insulted at that. But at the end of the day, while I was what this club had as a bomb expert, I was by no means the best of the best. Chris up at Hailstorm had people on her crew who specialized in that shit for years before they left the service. She was who the club should be calling with something like this.
“And Aunt Janie,” Nave said. “I mean, she tinkers with bombs for fun. So…”
“Yeah, anyone who can offer some information,” Fallon agreed. “Might be able to shrug off a drive-by or something like that. But a bomb?”
“Yeah,” I agreed.
“We’re gonna need to have a sit-down with you too,” Fallon told me. “See what skeletons you might have in your closet.”
“Yeah,” I agreed. Even if I’d been racking my mind to try to think of anyone who would want me dead. And in such a splashy way. “But I’m gonna call Bonnie out of work and clean up her head wound first, if that’s alright.”
“Yeah, take care of her. But when you can, come on out to talk to everyone.”
“Will do,” I agreed, moving back into my room to find Bonnie in her cocoon again, the hot chocolate gone, but she was now holding the tea mug.
“I could warm that up for you.”
“I’m used to lukewarm tea. I always make a cup, then get busy reading or doing a craft or something, and forget all about it.”
“Your purse was still in your car,” I told her, passing it over. “And I found your phone.” I held it out to her so she could plug in her code, then scrolled her contacts. But, well, ‘scrolled’ was maybe a nice way of putting it. She had four numbers programmed.
Her work phone.
Her boss’s number.
Her doctor.
And a dentist.
That was it.
There was alone, and then there was what this girl had going on.
“Should I call the work phone or her cell?”
“She always has her cell on her.”
With that, I hit the call button, listening to the ring until I was sure it was going to go to the machine.
“Girl, what the fuck?” Courtney answered. She didn’t sound angry, just flustered. “Yes, I know. You’re being a good boy,” she added, and I figured she was flustered because she was trying to groom and talk at the same time.
“Courtney, this is Sully,” I said.
“Sully?” she asked, and I had her full attention. “Who are you? Where’s Bonnie?”
“That’s why I’m calling,” I said, hyperaware of Bonnie’s gaze on me, her gray eyes worried. “I’m Sully. Bonnie’s… boyfriend,” I said, watching Bonnie’s eyes go wide and her cheeks look a little pink.
“Her boyfriend? How come she’s never mentioned you? Put Bonnie on the phone.”
“Bonnie had an accident last night,” I told her. “She banged her head pretty bad. That’s why she didn’t come in today. She’s been… getting it taken care of,” I said, only half lying. I would be taking care of it eventually.