Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 77576 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 388(@200wpm)___ 310(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77576 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 388(@200wpm)___ 310(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
“Tell you what.”
He places his hand over mine, and a spark surges through me.
“I’ll head over to the station. But before I do, I’ll tell Sadie that we need to take our food to go. Can you stay here until it’s ready? Then just bring it to me at the station. And we can maybe eat in the park or something.”
“It’s not a bad night”—I look out the restaurant window—“but it’s dark. It’s the middle of November, Brendan.”
He sighs. “Crap. You know I’m staying at my parents’ house.”
I pause, nibble at my lip ring. “It’s fine. We can eat at my place.”
Good thing I straightened up this morning.
“Are you sure?”
“Of course.”
“You’re the best, Ava.” He puts the phone back to his ear. “I’ll be right over, Hardy.”
He shifts the phone in his pocket and pulls out his wallet. He takes out several bills and lays them on the table. “This should cover dinner plus tip.”
I nod. “Okay.”
He leaves the table, stops to talk to Lisa briefly near the door, and then heads out.
About ten minutes later, Sadie comes by with a to-go bag. “Here you go. Sorry you guys can’t stay tonight.”
“Brendan got a phone call. Something about his case.”
“So he didn’t break the date?”
“No, he didn’t. I’m taking this food over to the station and meeting him there. We’ll eat at my place later.”
“So somehow he got to your place already.”
“Sadie…”
She shakes her head. “None of this is your fault, Ava. Brendan and I…”
I rise. “None of my business. See you later, Sadie.” I grab the bag and leave.
CHAPTER EIGHT
BRENDAN
Hardy Solomon went to high school with Dale and me, so he’s my age. He’s a good guy, and I know he tried to find information about who trashed my place.
“What’s the good word?” I ask as I walk into the police station.
Hardy’s out of uniform, wearing a felt cowboy hat and blue jeans, but his officers aren’t.
“Hey, Brendan,” Hardy says. “The guys called me in. Looks like we might have something.”
“Yeah?” My pulse quickens. “Please tell me you can figure it out without roping off my place again. I’ve got a contractor coming in tomorrow to give me an estimate and to get started.”
“Well…”
“Shit. Are you kidding me?”
“I know this is a pain in your ass, Brendan, but do you want to figure this out or not?”
Hardy doesn’t know about the documents I found hidden underneath my floorboards. Only Dale and Donny Steel—and whoever they chose to tell—know. Our guess is that there were more documents somewhere in my place, and whoever trashed it was looking for them.
I can’t share any of this with Hardy, though.
“We got an anonymous tip,” one of the officers says.
“Oh?”
“Yeah. We’re hoping you can make some sense of it. Or if you can’t, maybe your dad can?”
“Okay. What exactly did you get?”
Hardy clears his throat. Then he hands me a sheet of paper.
“This is an email we got from some dummy account. When we tried to email back, it bounced.”
I scan my eyes over the paper. Only two lines.
Darth Morgen is alive.
Ask the Murphys.
“What the hell is this supposed to mean?” I demand.
“We were hoping maybe you could tell us.”
“I don’t know.”
“Okay. Then we go to your dad.”
“Have you called him?”
“Not yet. Your place was trashed, so we decided to talk to you first.”
“What makes you think this has anything to do with my case?”
“It says to ask the Murphys.”
“So? I don’t have a clue what this means. Get my father in here if you think he might.”
Hardy glances at his phone for a few seconds and then sticks it to his ear. “Hey, Sean? Hardy Solomon here. Can you come down to the station? Brendan’s here, and we’ve got a new development.” Pause. “Thanks.”
A moment later, Ava enters the station, carrying the takeout from Lorenzo’s.
My whole body reacts at the sight of her. I take the bag. “Hey.”
“So what’s going on?” she asks.
“We’re not sure. My dad’s on his way down. He might have some information to decipher what Hardy found.”
“Maybe I can help,” she says.
“I doubt it. Unless you can make any sense of this.” I hand her the paper.
Her jaw drops.
“Ava?”
“This is bizarre. Really bizarre.”
“What do you mean?”
“I got a text with this exact message.”
I keep myself from jerking forward in surprise. “What?”
“Well, not exactly. Just the Darth Morgen part. Not the part about talking to Murphy.”
“I don’t understand. Why would you get the same message?”
“I don’t know. It’s not like you and I… I mean, other than tonight…”
“I know. That’s what I mean. Whoever this is…they couldn’t possibly have known we were going to go out.”
She wrinkles her forehead. “I think it’s a puzzle.”
“Well, clearly.”
“No, I mean…” She looks down at the paper and then hands it to me. “Don’t freak out on me, but when I got the same message, I drew a tarot card.”