Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 69428 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 347(@200wpm)___ 278(@250wpm)___ 231(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69428 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 347(@200wpm)___ 278(@250wpm)___ 231(@300wpm)
I wanted to reach over and grab his hand and squeeze.
Instead, I asked about his brother. “And your brother? How is he?”
That had Taos frowning. “I don’t know. I haven’t been able to find Greer since he was adopted. It was like he fell off the face of the planet.”
That made my heart hurt. “I can’t say that I’m super-duper awesome at detective work, but I can stalk a person on Facebook and Instagram like a boss.”
He grinned. “His full name is… was… Greer Allen Brady. But I’m sure that they changed it when he was adopted.”
“Maybe not.” I paused. “How old were you when this happened?”
He grimaced. “Thirteen.”
“Then possibly not since he’d been using that name for so long. If y’all had a good relationship with your parents, there’s an even better chance that he kept it.”
He shrugged, and I chose to change the subject.
“Now, how sore am I going to be tomorrow?”
He burst out laughing. “Bad.”
CHAPTER 8
But did you die?
-CrossFit
TAOS
I was rereading over a file when I heard the rumble-splutter of a car arriving in my driveway.
I got up and looked out, ever the cop, and stared at the black nondescript sedan that was idling in my driveway.
I watched quietly as Fran got out of her car and started walking the length of my walkway to get to the front door.
I waited until she was right there, knocking on the door, before I opened it and grinned. “Come in. Gotta get the cat settled, then I can go.”
She grinned and followed me in, just like she’d been doing for the last week and a half.
Apparently, my car had parts that were required for it that had to come all the way from Buffalo, New York. That also meant that it’d taken a bit more time to get the parts than we’d originally anticipated, and since my car was a bit in pieces thanks to the specific parts that were needed, it meant that I was out of a vehicle for longer than I’d expected.
Not that I was complaining.
“I didn’t know you had a cat,” she admitted.
I laughed. “Well, I have a cat when the cat wants me to be his owner. Sometimes, he likes the neighbor next door to be his owner.”
She giggled. “You’re joking, right?”
I shook my head and walked into my kitchen where Gumby, the boy tabby cat that literally was shared between my neighbor and I, sat on the corner of my kitchen island waiting for food.
“I think that he was originally the neighbor’s, but he likes my food better,” I admitted as I walked to the kitchen cabinet that I kept his food in and opened it. “The neighbor originally bought the house that came with the cat. He was roughly about eight months old, and the old owner died, so he took him on. He got him fixed. Then allowed him to go outside when he pleased. Which ended up with me thinking we had a stray cat, and I made the mistake of feeding him a can of cat food that I got in one of those free kiosks at the bulk supply store when I scanned my membership card. Now, he comes to me when he wants to eat, hangs out, and then leaves when he’s ready to go home.”
She started to laugh all over again, and I turned around to see Gumby rubbing up against her chest, doing what I wanted to do.
I popped the top on the can, and Gumby left her like he’d never been getting scratches.
He arrowed to me, darting over my cast-iron skillet on the stove to stop directly in front of me, letting me know just how impatiently he was waiting.
“I know, I know,” I told him as he meowed in my face, placing his paws up on my shoulder so that he could reach my face, then rub his head along my chin.
“I think that he either really likes that food or likes you. I’m not sure which,” Fran teased.
I winked at her. “Most likely, it’s the food. And the fact that I’m giving it to him. I’m just sayin’.”
She waited patiently for me to finish up, then grinned when she saw my massive bag of shit that I picked up, like always.
“One of these days, I need a CrossFit bag. Make it official and all that jazz,” she told me teasingly.
I frowned, then held up a finger before moving into my bedroom.
“I ordered one of these, and it came with this tiny little baby bag that would never fit all of my shit,” I said. “I tossed it in the bottom of my closet.”
Hurrying toward my room, I found the bright pink bag that had been in my closet for I didn’t know how long.
Snatching it up, I walked back into the living room to find her once again petting the cat. The cat that had snarfed down his food like he didn’t get fed four times a damn day.