Total pages in book: 49
Estimated words: 46926 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 235(@200wpm)___ 188(@250wpm)___ 156(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 46926 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 235(@200wpm)___ 188(@250wpm)___ 156(@300wpm)
He’s right, but I know who installed them, even if I don’t know his name or what he looks like. “We’re as close to finding them as we are who killed Zeke and all the rest.”
“Right. We’re getting closer, I can feel it.” Jay flashes his old smile and for a split second, everything feels right with the world. It feels as if maybe things will get back to normal, at least if I don’t remember that my home—for now—is Damien’s penthouse. “Wait a sec,” he mutters, his eyes dropping to his phone screen. The moment he sees it, his entire attitude shifts. “Shit. I gotta run.”
I get to my feet and grab my jacket. “Where are we going?”
“No, I have an appointment I forgot about.” His gaze flicks away from my face and I’ve played poker with him enough times in my life to know when he’s bluffing. Or lying out right.
“An appointment?” I keep the disbelief out of my tone.
“Yeah. I’ll be back later.”
It stings, but I don’t call him on it. “Are you sick? Have you been monitoring your blood pressure like the doctor said?”
He shrugs. “As much as I can with a serial killer on the loose.” He glances down when his phone lights up again, and groans even louder. “See you soon.” Then he rushes out of the war room so fast you’d think someone caught his butt on fire.
“Fine,” I grunt to the empty room. “See you later.” Jay’s acting weird and I need to find out why. I wouldn’t put it past him to hunt down a lead on his own, mistakenly thinking that he’s doing me a favor by cutting me out of my own fucking investigation. “Not today and not this case.” I leave the office to get answers and run into Nate.
“Hey Frankie, man, I’m so fucking sorry about your house. How are you doing?”
“Wishing my house wasn’t ashes at the moment, but otherwise I’m doing about as well as you might expect.” His smile is sympathetic, and I rush to change the subject. “Hey, do you know what’s going on with Jay? He just left for another mysterious appointment he won’t talk about.” It’s the third or fourth time it’s happened recently and now I’m curious.
“Don’t know,” Nate offers with a shrug. “It’s weird he would leave now.”
I’m a little confused by the emphasis he puts on now. “Why?”
“Because there’s a smoking hot witness who just got here. A Laurel Kinney from Hope House.”
Hope House? We have a witness from Hope House in the box and Jay leaves? That doesn’t make sense, but his absence gives me the opportunity I need to talk to her without interruption. I school my features and nod at Nate. “Thanks. I’ll see you around.” I move toward the hallway where the interrogation rooms are when Nate calls out to me.
“Are you sure you’re good, Frankie?”
I nod. “Solving this case will help. Thanks for asking!” I step into the observation room and take in the witness, Laurel Kinney. She’s attractive, sporting vibrant red curls, almond-shaped green eyes, and plump pink lips. A few freckles scattered across her cheeks and nose. Miss Kinney has a wholesome charm of the girl next door with a figure that could stop traffic.
I take a few minutes, going back to the war room to gather photos and notes before I join her in the box. “Miss Kinney, thank you for coming down to speak to us.”
Her green eyes settle on me, and she nods with a shrug. “Sure. I wasn’t there long, but when I saw the details on the news story, I thought I should come in just in case.”
It’s a smart instinct even though no women have been killed. “I appreciate that so much. Can you tell me when you lived at Hope House?”
She nods, answering the basic questions easily. “I didn’t stay very long, though. My folks were a mess, always on and off, strung out on whatever drugs were available. But a few months without me—and the check we got—was enough for them to at least fake it, act like they had their shit together. I don’t know what I can tell you, but I’m willing to try.”
I want to offer sympathy, but I know it won’t make a difference. She's already giving off survivor vibes. “I’m hoping you can help us identify a few of the other children who stayed there while you were there.” I pull out the photos and line them up in front of her. “Do any of these kids look familiar to you?” I look up and watch her carefully, in search of any sign that she knows more than she says.
She concentrates intently on each of the images, taking her time to fully take in the details of every picture. “This guy here is Damien Wolfe. You know that gorgeous billionaire tech genius? It’s him but I remember he went by Michael back then.” Her full lips curve into a crooked smile like she’s remembering something. “He was quiet back then, kind of a weirdo but incredibly smart and nicer than most of the other guys. Guess I should’ve been nicer to him back then, huh? I could be flying high in the billions right now.”