Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 83331 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 417(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83331 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 417(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Grady
“Almost there,” Eric Hansen said, as though Coulter and I didn’t know we were five miles away from the town we’d lived in our whole lives.
Hansen was a rookie SBPD officer who had brought a tow truck to the Minnesota-Wisconsin border to pick up me, Coulter, and the broken-down SUV. We’d gotten the vehicle hitched to the tow truck and then the damn tow truck hadn’t started because of a dead battery. Hansen felt personally responsible, but it was just shitty luck. And of course, it had taken forever to have someone else deliver the correct battery and get it installed. Nine hours, to be exact.
“How many hours have we been awake?” Coulter asked me.
I shook my head. “Too many.”
We hadn’t slept in a couple of days, and every hour I’d been delayed getting home had felt like ten. Avon hadn’t responded to any of my texts in the last eight hours, and I was wound tight.
Had she left town already? She wouldn’t do that. We’d agreed to talk about things more. But every time I started thinking about it, I realized I’d been a lousy boyfriend in the brief time we’d been together. Spending nights at the police station trying to run down leads on Bardot when I should have been with her. Never telling her how much she meant to me.
“Hansen, are you unaware of the fucking speed limit four miles outside of the city you patrol every goddamn day?” I demanded.
The tow truck was crawling along so slowly I was about to jump out of my skin.
“Sorry, Chief,” he said, speeding up slightly.
I needed a shower, but I also needed to see Avon. It was around 10:00 a.m., so she was probably at the Chronicle. Unless she was with Bess. I checked my phone to see if she’d texted me back yet.
Nothing.
“You need me to keep a hand on the wheel at the station?” Coulter asked me.
He was a hell of an officer and friend. Without asking, he knew I had something personal to attend to, and he probably knew it had to do with Avon. And after all this time without sleep, he was still offering to help cover for me at the station.
“No,” I said. “Lt. Glasky has it covered. I don’t want you coming within fifty feet of the office for the next three days.”
“I’ll probably sleep most of it,” he said with a grin.
I could hardly keep my eyes open, but I couldn’t even consider sleeping until I saw Avon. The knot of worry in my stomach wouldn’t go away until I did. What if I’d blown it? I didn’t have much experience with relationships, but not paying attention to your current girlfriend because you were obsessed with solving the murder of your last one didn’t sound like a great quality.
“Do you guys want to be dropped off at the station or at home?” Hansen asked.
“Take him home and take me to the station,” I said.
“My car is at the station, so you can drop both of us there,” Coulter said.
The last mile was the longest of the trip. It would have been faster if I had jumped out of the tow truck and ran. If Avon would give me a chance, I’d prove to her that I wanted her to be first in my life. I wanted so much more with her. More time, more laughter, more opportunities to show her that I was the only man for her.
I squeezed my hand into a fist and released it again, hoping she hadn’t already given the green light to the prospective buyer of the Chronicle. Her story here wasn’t over; it was just beginning.
Hansen rounded a corner and the old newspaper building came into view. My heart rate kicked up as we drew closer. I could have Avon back in my arms within the next three minutes.
“I’ll just let you out and take the car in for repair,” Hansen said, slowing to a stop beside City Hall.
I bolted from the vehicle and ran toward the door of the Chronicle building, which had plywood boards covering the glass windows that had been shattered by the bullet that got Bess.
When I opened the front door and looked at Avon’s desk, my shoulders sank when I saw it was empty.
There was only one person in the newsroom, a twentysomething kid with shaggy hair who was wearing headphones.
“Hey, can I help you?” he asked.
“Where’s Avon?” I asked, not in the mood for formalities.
“She’s in San Diego.”
My head reared back in shock. I covered my mouth with my hand and paced a few steps. Fuck. I’d honestly thought she’d stay here so we could talk when I got home.
“I’m Devon. Is there something I can help you with? Unfortunately, I’m the only one here this week because Bess is in the hospital.”