Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 114820 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 574(@200wpm)___ 459(@250wpm)___ 383(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 114820 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 574(@200wpm)___ 459(@250wpm)___ 383(@300wpm)
“It’s okay,” Jace murmured.
Rus turned to Jason and jerked his head to the door.
They both walked out.
“You don’t take that on,” he ordered the minute the door closed them from Iverson.
Jason’s jaw bulged.
He felt someone approaching, but repeated, “You don’t take that on.”
“Take what on?” Bohannan asked from behind Rus.
“Look at me,” Rus said to Jason because his attention had gone to his dad. “Did you hear me?”
“Yessir,” Jace replied.
“She’s not yours, she’s mine. Did you hear that?” Rus pushed.
“Yessir.”
“Say it.”
Jace’s Adam’s apple bobbed.
“Say it, Jace,” he pressed.
“She’s not mine, she’s yours.”
“You do this work. You know what I mean.”
“Yeah,” he whispered.
Yeah.
He knew.
“I get it. I do. I’d feel the same as you. But don’t let that meat suit in there get under your skin.”
“It’s tough,” Jace admitted.
“I know. He feels guilt, and no matter what kind of person he is, his daughter is dead. He’s striking out. Don’t let it get under your skin.”
Jason nodded.
“I need you to stand down, bud,” Rus told him.
His gaze went over Rus’s shoulder, again to his dad.
He got it back when he said, “I don’t need anything fucking with this investigation. You’re good at what you do. That’s obvious. Moran deputized you, like this is the Wild fucking West. But it isn’t. It’s the U S of fucking A, and when we get this guy, you and I both want him going down and staying down. No one fucking it. Yeah?”
Jace’s nod to that was stronger.
“Yeah,” he agreed.
“Good work,” Rus grunted, turned, jutted his chin to a deeply concerned-looking Bohannan, and he started to walk away.
He needed a breath of fresh air, because being in that room with Iverson answered the question that no, that hunting cabin didn’t have a shower.
He stopped when he heard, “Yo.”
He turned and Moran was coming out of the viewing room, holding his phone.
Rus didn’t know him well enough yet to decipher the look on his face.
He walked back to stand with Bohannan, Jace and Moran.
“What?” he asked.
“You’re not gonna believe this shit,” Moran said.
“What?” he bit out.
“Ezra Corbin has skipped town.”
They talked to him last night.
Last.
Fucking.
Night.
God.
Fucking.
Dammit.
FIFTEEN
Because I’m Here
“This is impossible to believe.”
Sherri Corbin was standing in her living room, staring at them in horror.
“I need your promise, Sherri, that if Ezra gets in touch with you, you’ll call us. You find out where he is. You ask him to come home. We need to talk to him,” Moran said to her.
“About that girl who died?” she demanded.
“Yes, he’s a person of interest,” Moran answered.
“This is unbelievable,” she hissed.
“I’m sorry, Sherri,” Moran said.
She looked up to Rus, to Moran, back to Rus then she stormed to a window and stared out of it.
“You sure he’s left?” Moran asked.
“I’ve only sent fifteen texts and called seven times, no answer. Not one,” she said to the window. She whirled to face them. “His entire suitcase set is gone, half his clothes are gone, and he took twenty thousand dollars from our joint account. Twenty thousand!” she screeched.
“Sherri, please calm down,” Moran said soothingly.
“You calm down, Harry. For God’s sake, my husband is gone, he stole from me, because I made that gol darned money, Harry.” She slapped her chest. “Me. He’s always got some business deal he’s cooking up, but nothing ever comes of it. He’s always wining and dining investors, out golfing and schmoozing. And he’s wanted in connection with a murder! Of some young girl!”
Rus had to admit, that was worth screeching.
Little did she know he wasn’t out golfing, at least not every time.
He was out getting his ass fucked and his cock swatted, among other things.
“We’re going to be monitoring his credit cards. His phone.” Moran dipped his head to Rus. “We’ve already got the FBI on that. We’ll find him, but it’ll be better for him if he comes in on his own.”
“Did he kill her?” she asked.
“We just want to talk to him,” Moran answered.
“You think he killed her.”
“We just want to talk to him, Sherri.”
She leaned toward Moran and snarled, “This is insane.”
She was right about that too.
“I’m so sorry,” Moran said, and it was genuine.
Moran wasn’t getting to it, but someone had to.
He was the outsider, so it was going to be him.
“Do you have a family computer?” he asked.
Her chin went in her neck. “Who has a family computer anymore? We both have laptops.”
“Did he take his?”
He could tell she didn’t know with the expression on her face.
“It would also be helpful,” he kept at it, and her attention focused again on him, “if we could get a DNA sample for Ezra.”
Moran made a noise, but he didn’t intervene.
Her eyes closed.
Slowly.
Yeah.
She was understanding what was happening.
Rus felt for her.
She was pretty. Curvy, and held it great. Fantastic hair and skin. Wore a close-fitting dress that hugged her curves like she was as proud of them as she should be. It was Saturday, late afternoon, and she looked stylish and put together.