Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 102903 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 515(@200wpm)___ 412(@250wpm)___ 343(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102903 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 515(@200wpm)___ 412(@250wpm)___ 343(@300wpm)
When both our doors are closed and the engine is cranked, he lets it all fly. “I fucking love this job! Phone sex girls and women in towels and ladies thinking I’m badass Gibbs from NCIS? It’s never boring, Dom. Never. I swear I’ll cry if that ever changes.”
Leave it to Shane to be excited about everything that just happened with Hannah and Sherry. I admit, at first I was amused, too, but after hearing the struggle in Hannah’s voice over her mom’s Alzheimer’s, I’m having a hard time thinking any of it is funny.
I suppose, though, I have way more perspective than Shane after watching my grandma Harriet experience dementia at the end of her life, and giving him shit over a completely normal reaction to the cacophony we’ve faced today isn’t going to win me any prizes.
“You watch that show, NCIS or whatever it’s called?” I ask instead, and he looks at me like I’ve grown two heads.
“Who doesn’t watch NCIS?” he retorts, his voice amped up like he’s ready to put on a suit of armor and go to war.
Silence escalates between us as the answer to his rhetorical question becomes obvious.
“You’re kidding me, Dom! It’s been one of the most popular shows on network television for years, and you’ve never seen it?”
I shake my head, snorting. “I’m more of a mover and a doer. I don’t spend a lot of time at my place when I’m not sleeping.”
I watch my mirrors as I execute a K-turn in the driveway, carefully avoiding the white Civic parked in front of the garage.
“You don’t even watch TV while you’re falling asleep? Lull yourself with the sound of gunfights and crime jargon?” he asks, hyped on the ecstasy of what is very obviously his routine.
“No.” I laugh. “But how about you put in a call with the prosecutor? Get your mind off your celebrity guy crush?” I flash a dry smile at him.
“At least I know things other than corpses and coffee,” he retorts. “All work and no play makes Dom a dull boy.”
I roll my eyes and hit the gas hard on purpose, squealing the tires a little as I pull onto the empty bypass.
Shane chuckles. “You’re such a fucker.”
When I don’t say anything, he restarts. “Okay, Detective. Give it to me. What exactly do you propose I say when I make this call? What are you thinking?”
“Well, if Hannah just started today”—I dive in without hesitation—“I think we need to make a trip to CMA headquarters and do some digging around there. Talk to this Margo Mavis she mentioned. And getting that kind of access is going to take paper permission from our upper management.”
“Warrant? Wiretap? What are you thinking?”
“Probably both.” I shrug. “We need access to their employee files, and we need to know who’s calling that line. I’m not sure how it’s all linked yet, but I know we’ve got two dead women connected to this company at this point, and that’s enough for me.”
“But is it enough for a judge?” he asks.
I give him my handsomest smile. “Well, sweetheart, I think that’s where you come in, yeah?”
He sighs. “All right, I’ll put the call in.”
I take a right onto the road that leads to the highway that gets us back downtown. Born and raised in Nashville, just like Shane, I know this route like the back of my hand. Hell, I know just about every road, bypass, and highway in this city.
While I take the entrance ramp onto the highway, the light from Shane’s phone shines in the dark of the interior. I wait for him to put it to his ear or for the call to connect, but when nothing happens, I lose patience. “Shane. Put the call in.”
“What, now?” he asks, and I sigh.
“Yes, now.”
“It’s after nine, Dom.”
“Yeah, well, murder investigations don’t normally follow a set shift.”
“He’s going to be pissed,” Shane mutters.
“I don’t give a shit!” I snap, making Shane laugh.
“Okay, okay, I’m calling now. But I’m putting it on speaker so we both suffer.”
“Hello?” the husky, already-annoyed male voice answers, making Shane flip me the finger.
“Hey, Uncle Benny. It’s Shane.”
“Why in the hell are you calling me this late, Shane?” the grumpy voice on the other end asks without any fucks given.
Shane’s uncle is tough as nails, but when you’re the lead prosecutor for the city, you have to be. Benedict “Benny” Maddox is Shane’s late father’s brother, and a man who has been a father figure in Shane’s life for well over twenty years. Even though Shane’s worked with the department for nearly a decade, Benny still treats him like a newborn-baby recruit.
Shane hates it, but it’s part of my weekly entertainment.
“Need a couple of court orders,” Shane answers, already cringing in anticipation. “A search warrant and a wiretap order for a business by the name of Call Me Anytime.”