Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 64320 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 322(@200wpm)___ 257(@250wpm)___ 214(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 64320 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 322(@200wpm)___ 257(@250wpm)___ 214(@300wpm)
“He’s got him,” he tells me, his eyes glued to the dealer’s back as he vanishes into the thick crowd. “Johnny’s on him.”
My shoulders rise and fall with my heavy breaths. I’m calm on the outside, but inside I’m pacing. The nerves eat away at me. “I need to do something,” I tell him, ignoring how the woman to my right turns back to look at me as if I’ve lost it. Maybe I have.
“Then go home,” Mason says and turns halfway around to walk right back up the way we came.
His leather jacket bunches in my fist as I pull him back to me. “I can’t sit around and do nothing,” I say, pleading with him to understand.
“The best thing for you to do is go home to your pregnant wife and stay right the fuck there,” Mason tells me. That’s it? That’s all I can do when this is the prick that laced that coke? When he’s the one who sold the tainted version and he’s the only one who can tell us who he sold it to.
I swallow thickly, feeling guilt settle in my stomach. “She needs you to be there,” Mason asserts, with caution thick in every word. I wonder if he’s just saying that to make me listen to his order, or if he really means it.
“You told her you were done with this shit. Be done with it. You saw him, you know we got the guy. It’s just a matter of time now.”
Chapter 29
Kat
Evan is … not himself in the least. His shoulders are hunched, and he keeps checking his phone like he’s waiting for something.
Ever since we left dinner last night, he’s been closed off. I wish I’d never brought up Samantha. It was a mistake.
Evan checks his phone again as an explosion on the television booms through the living room. He doesn’t flinch or react. He’s numb.
I scroll through the list I’ve added to the baby registry. Maddie sent me a check-off chart and it’s so, so long. All the clothes in miniature and every odd and end, from pacifier holders to little mittens, should be enjoyable to add, but there’s a nagging feeling that claws at my chest.
I peek up at him again, scooting closer into the cushion and pulling the throw tighter around me. “Why do you keep checking your phone?”
“It’s nothing,” he answers.
I’m slow and deliberate as I arrange myself into a cross-legged position across from my husband on the sofa.
The expression on his face is one I’ve seen before, the “what is she doing?” look.
He sets his phone down beside him, and I don’t take my eyes off his, but I notice how he tries to hide it.
“No secrets,” I remind him. “You promised.”
Another loud boom from the television distracts me and I reach for the remote without hesitation, bending over Evan to grab it from where it sits right next to his phone. As soon as the television screen goes black, I toss the remote behind me.
Giving him my full attention I tell him, “I feel like maybe you have something to tell me.” I hold his gaze and his expression gives me nothing.
I’m so close to snatching his phone out of his hands just to prove him wrong, but before I pull the trigger on that idea he says, “I don’t want to bother you with these things.”
“You’re my husband. You’re supposed to bother me.” I say it with a little humor, but again, he doesn’t react.
“Tell me, Evan. I want to know.” I scoot closer to him, just a bit so my leg touches his and I rest a hand on his thigh.
“It’s something you said. About Samantha having drugs.” Dread washes over me. I never should have gone to see her, confront her or spoken her name. I regret it all. He glances away from me at the far wall in the room. “It’s something bad,” he adds.
“Her having drugs is … what? I don’t understand.” I hate that an inkling of jealousy creeps up on me, but it’s quickly followed by a darker realization. The coldness that came with the dread sinks down deeper, coating every inch of my skin.
“The coke that killed Tony was laced with another drug. High amounts, enough to kill.” He looks me in the eye and slowly the pieces come together, one by one.
A chill sinks into the marrow of my bones. Samantha. Not James. “Did you tell Mason?”
He nods and then adds, “He thinks he has something concrete.”
“What?” I ask him, eager for more. I can’t lie. There’s a part of me that’s afraid, but a bigger part that needs to know. Ever since Evan told me his theory, I’ve questioned it. I’ve questioned his sanity even. I started to think it was all in his head.