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)
Dakota: I’d rather get a root canal than listen to you and Shane argue like an old married couple. Plus, I have a date.
Me: Who?
Dakota: Like I’d tell you that. The last time I told you the name of the guy I was going on a date with, you and Shane showed up at the freaking restaurant. No thank you.
I laugh to myself when I think about that night. Dakota got so pissed at us when we pretended we needed to question the guy—whose name was Jackson, by the way—about an investigation. That dude nearly pissed himself when Shane told him he needed to come with us down to the station.
Me: Okay, that’s valid. But be safe, okay?
Dakota: I will.
When I look up from my phone, I find James still onstage with the band and Shane over at the bar, talking to some brunette in tight leather pants. Normally, I’d feel like I was missing out on the party, but if anything, I just feel relieved. It’s hard to focus on anything else when my mind keeps drifting to Hannah. I’ve been tempted to text her all damn day—just to check in, to make sure she’s okay—but I’ve been trying to keep it professional. She’s part of an investigation, for fuck’s sake, not my personal life.
But when I glance at my phone again and see her name below Dakota’s, my restraint crumbles. Screw professionalism. She’s been through enough, and if I can help her feel even a little better, I’m going to.
Me: How are you doing tonight? Feeling any better?
Not even a minute later, my phone vibrates in my hand with her response.
Hannah: Better. Not hyperventilating anymore, so that’s definitely a good thing, right? Though I still feel nervous about what I’ve gotten my mom and Lovie into . . .
Me: Y’all are safe.
Hannah: Yeah, I remember the no hotels speech. I just wish I could convince myself it’s true. I don’t know why I have in my head that they know where I live, but I’ve really been freaking myself out.
An idea pops into my head.
Me: Would it make you feel better if I put a patrol car on your house tonight? Then at least you could get a good night’s sleep without having to worry.
Hannah: Could you do that???
It occurs to me that I’m not sure if I can or not. Captain Leonard has already started bitching about all the resources we’ve got tied up in this case, and I doubt he’s going to want to allocate more, but I guess I need to put my money where my mouth is and check.
Me: Probably. I’ll figure it out.
Hannah: Oh my God, I do really think that would help. At least for tonight. I seriously appreciate it so much.
Shit. No pressure or anything.
Climbing off my stool, I signal to Shane that I’m going to hit the head, and I walk to the back hallway, where I know it’ll be quieter. I dial the captain’s number and listen as it rings, knowing when he picks up, he’s not going to be thrilled.
“Dunn?”
“Hey, Cap. How ya doing?”
“Well, it’s ten fucking o’clock and I’m currently trying to sleep,” he grumbles. “What do you want?”
Uh-oh. Someone’s a little cranky. “So, do we happen to have any patrol free tonight that we can send over to the May house?”
“What the fuck are you on about?”
“Hannah May, the girl involved with the active CMA investigation,” I explain, because he clearly doesn’t remember jack shit. “Some calls got her pretty rattled today, and I think she’d feel safer if we can put a car on her house.”
“Did someone threaten her directly?”
“Well . . . no, not exactly . . .”
“Is she giving out her address on these calls you’re tapping?” he fusses.
I sigh. “No.”
“Then, no. I don’t have a fucking free patrol car to go sit at her house. Dammit, Dunn, it’s like this is your first day on the job. Is that all?”
“Yeah, Captain,” I say. “Sorry to bother you.”
The call ends without a goodbye, and I pull the phone down from my ear and open it back up to my messages with Hannah.
Oh my God, I do really think that would help. At least for tonight. I seriously appreciate it so much.
Her hope is palpable. Too palpable, frankly.
Well, shit. Looks like I’m calling it an early night.
17
Hannah
Friday, May 17
8:00 a.m.
As I wet my toothbrush under the faucet, I peek out my bathroom window and spot the shiny black Camaro that arrived at my house around ten last night, still sitting at the end of my long driveway. It’s unmarked, but after my conversation with Dom last night, I know it’s MNPD. Plus, I’ve seen him driving a similar car before.
Relief trickles through me as I remember how he promised to send someone to keep watch over us. Knowing there’s someone out there has me feeling safer than I have in weeks.