Total pages in book: 54
Estimated words: 51900 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 260(@200wpm)___ 208(@250wpm)___ 173(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 51900 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 260(@200wpm)___ 208(@250wpm)___ 173(@300wpm)
Why indeed, I think. What does Ellis know that we don’t know? Too much, I think.
“It’s like something the cop does in a B horror flick,” Jack continues. “You know everyone is going to die because he’s the idiot that’s supposed to be saving them.”
But who is Ellis saving, besides himself? If he wasn’t pinging in Maryland, I’d think he was on the run. Does he think he knows the next target? I pull the list of committee members from my pocket that Ellis gave me. Has he warned them all they’re in danger?
Jack is talking, talking, talking, presently about Dexter. “The brilliant thing about Dexter is that he was a serial killer in plain sight. He seemed normal, almost too normal, and Elsa’s essentially a—”
“Stop talking, Jack. Tic Tac?”
“I’m here.”
“I’m texting you a list of everyone on the committee that killed Clyde’s contract, thus will be a target for Elsa. Find out where each one is now. And get me phone numbers for every one of them. And,” I sigh, “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but get me a line to the president.”
“I—you—the president?”
“That’s right. Get me a line to the president.”
He’s silent.
“Tic Tac.”
“Okay. On it. I’m putting you on hold.”
At this point, we’ve pulled into the driveway of Lucas’ place, and Jay halts in front of the door. I motion for him to get out and then text the list to Tic Tac that I should have given him before now. It’s a full five minutes later when Tic Tac comes back on the line. “He’ll call you back.”
“Said every powerful man avoiding a woman who wants to bust his balls,” I mumble, and then firmer, “Work on the list.”
“The VP is on the list?”
“Yes, the VP is on the list. Now you know why I want to talk to the president.”
“That’s not why. You don’t trust Ellis.”
“When have you known me to trust anyone?” I don’t give him a chance to reply. I hang up. I didn’t trust Murphy. I sure as fuck don’t trust Ellis, perhaps to the extreme. He just got to Maryland. He can’t answer his phone while raiding Elsa’s place, which is apparently where assassins for the government get trained.
I should at least give him the bad girlfriend. I dial Ellis and get thrown into voicemail again. I try three more times. Finally, I text him: Call me before I do something crazy. There are ideas in my head. That’s never a good thing.
I don’t wait for a reply. I’m perfectly capable of texting and yelling at Lucas all at once. I’m a good multitasker. I exit the truck, and Jay is standing by the front door.
I climb the steps to meet him. “Did you ring the bell?”
“Ten times while freezing my ass off waiting on you. Nothing.”
I pat his arm. “Poor cold baby. Fuck the police academy. You need a cushy office job with a warm heater, a pretty receptionist to flirt with, and bad grocery store cake for birthday parties.”
With that, I offer him my back and hurry down the stairs. Apparently, Jay, too, can multitask, as he groans a complaint and follows me at the same time.
I hike it right and round the house and then come around by the pool, with Jay tight on my heels. I’d teach him a lesson about safe distances by stopping and letting him crash into me, but there’s no time for tears and hard-earned lessons. I need Lucas to get to work. He can find a needle in a haystack if it starts with a keyboard, and Elsa and her next victim are that needle.
Once I’m at the sliding glass door, I don’t bother to knock. If it didn’t work on the front door, it’s not going to work on the back. Besides, I don’t want to lose the chance to throw ice water on him to wake him up. Lucas never locks the back of the house, and the door slides open easily.
I shove the curtain back and listen for any sound, unease niggling at my belly. I lift a hand, telling Jay to stay back. My hand settles on my firearm, and I ease through the archway to find a couple empty pizza boxes and whiskey bottles. Obviously, Tic Tac wasn’t wrong. Lucas is drinking again, but the leap of my pulse is confirmation that that is not all that’s going on here.
I draw my weapon and ease to the right to peek into the bedroom, then step inside, find the bed unmade, clothes on the floor, and the master bath messy as fuck, but all clear. Once I’m back in the living area, there’s a popping sound, like a beer can opening, that draws my attention toward the kitchen. I hurry that direction and round the corner.
Lucas is sitting at the kitchen table, a beer in hand and looking like a homeless person, not a beach bum, with his hair matted and standing on end, but he’s not alone.