Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 75720 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 379(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75720 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 379(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
“Nothing,” he said, answering without barely looking up from the computer screen.
“You sure? We just need dashboard cam footage and a cha—”
“I know what you need. I don’t have it.” This time, he did look up from his screen, a look of frustration twisting his bushy brows and scarred upper lip.
I wasn’t the confrontational type, especially not when it came to the law, but damn did I want to ball up a fist and send it flying across this guy’s jaw. He was so nonchalant about this. Meanwhile, my boy—my friend was sitting back there chewing his nails down to the bed because of how scared he was.
Friend. All we are.
Eric got up from his chair, the thin metallic legs scratching the already scuffed green tiles. He wasn’t coming to the front desk, though. Instead, he walked right over to a side door, where a smiling man waited with an arm held out, receiving Eric’s shake.
“Nice to see you again, Eric.”
Eric pulled the man into a tight side hug. “You too, Julian. These are my friends Noah and Jake. Noah’s the one that the threat was addressed to.”
Julian, a captain according to his badge, looked to Noah, his big brown eyes appearing sympathetic as opposed to the icy-cold glare I got from the guy at the front desk. “Sorry you’re going through this, man.” I noticed a rainbow wristband attached to his Apple Watch, popping against the black-and-white forearm tattoo he had. It made me feel noticeably more comfortable, knowing that Julian likely understood firsthand the kind of bullshit Noah was going through right now. Granted, he could just be a guy who liked colorful wristbands, but I decided to err on the everyone’s-queer side unless proven straight, at least for now.
“Come, let’s go to my office. I can go over what we found with y’all.”
Eric and Julian walked lockstep down the bare hall lit by a stark fluorescent light. There were offices on either side of us, some of them larger, others appearing as cramped as broom closets. Noah stuck close by my side.
“Did you ever tour one of these for school?” I asked.
“No, it was never on the agenda. We got field trips to Disney World and Six Flags, not the county prison. Where the hell did you go to school? Alcatraz?”
I chuckled, enjoying the ribbing when it came from Noah. He had a way about him—it allowed him to say the snarkiest and shadiest comment known to man but pull it off with a smile that buried itself directly into the center of your heart.
“I think they wanted to scare us into never getting in trouble.”
“Did it work?”
I shrugged. “For me, it did. But then again, I was always a Goody Two-shoes. I only started rebelling in college, once I was out of my parents’ house.”
“And what did rebelling consist of?”
That got another chuckle out of me as memories started to rush back, some of them more blurry than others. “Getting drunk and blowing closeted frat guys. And some uncloseted ones, too.”
Noah nearly tripped. He looked like he was about to say something but was too tongue-tied to get it out. If he managed to untangle his thoughts, I’d never know since we made it to Captain Julian’s office at that very moment.
I walked past him, bending and whispering, “Unexpected,” in his ear before entering one of the more spacious offices we had seen. Playing around with him like that made me giddy, reminding me of the early stages of a blossoming… something. A blossoming friendship.
Captain Julian took a seat at his clutter-free desk, the notepads organized in a stack by increasing size. Behind him was a rectangular window that had a much nicer view than the parking lot, this one looking out to a wooded area that blocked the highway on the other side. A photo of Julian and his husband kissing at their wedding took up a large portion of the sturdy desk, confirming my suspicions and making me that much more comfortable.
“Alright,” he said, hands on his desk, “so I’ll start with the bad news first since there’s a bit of that: we didn’t find any prints. Forensics is still going through, but they aren’t expecting to find any DNA either. I’ve got a handwriting expert looking at the address, but without samples to compare them to, they won’t get us very far.”
From the corner of my eye, I could see Noah deflate, sinking in the chair. My instinct was to reach out and hold him, rub his knee, tell him it would be fine. That move would have likely confused the majority of people in the room, so I held myself back, offering him a pursed frown instead.
“Now, here are the things we do know. One, it was hand-delivered. That box did not go through any kind of postal office. I have officers canvassing the area and asking everyone if they spotted someone or something that seems suspicious.”