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)
“I-I didn’t know she was that young. I-I t-thought she was older.”
I stare at him. “So, if you would’ve known she was only eighteen, then you wouldn’t have tried to pay her for sex?”
“No way.” He shakes his head several times. “No way—I would’ve never.”
“How often do you cruise downtown looking for prostitutes?”
“I’ve only done it once. I swear. Only this time.”
“You’ve only done it once and you just so happened to get caught?” I ask, my brow furrowing. “You either have the worst luck, Waylon, or you’re lying through your fucking teeth.”
“I-I’m not lying.”
I laugh. But I also stand and lean across the table, my hands resting on the cool metal surface. Waylon shudders when I’m nearly nose to nose with his greasy face. “So, you’ve only tried to pick up a prostitute this one time?”
He nods and averts his eyes like a coward.
I reach forward to grip his shirt with my fist and force his gaze back to mine. “And what about Call Me Anytime?”
He tries to look away from me, but I just grip his shirt tighter.
“What about Call Me Anytime, Waylon?” I question, and my voice is growing louder with each word. “How often are you calling into that hotline?”
“S-sometimes. Not a l-lot.”
“Are you sure, Waylon?” I retort through a stiff jaw. “Are you sure you don’t like calling into the Ruby line?”
Waylon just sits there. His eyes bounce around me, around the room, like a rogue basketball after it’s been tossed down the court.
“You like Ruby, huh?” I question and drop my voice a few octaves. “And you like all the Rubys that have come before her. Maybe a little too much.”
He shakes his head.
“What did you do to the other Rubys, Waylon?” I spit out and lean even closer to his face. I also lift him out of his chair by his shirt. “What happened to the other Rubys, Waylon? What did you do, Waylon?” I repeat the question over and over again. “What did you do, Waylon? What did you do, Waylon?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” he shouts, and tears are starting to stream down his cheeks. “I didn’t do anything! I don’t even know what you mean!”
The urge to slam him against the wall is so strong, it’s a miracle I keep myself in check. All I can think about is what this sick bastard has already said to Hannah and whether he’s responsible for Gwen and Heather or—worse—if he’s thinking of making Hannah his next target. That thought alone is like fuel on a fire I can hardly control, but Shane steps in between us, promptly prying my fists from Waylon’s shirt.
“Let’s take five, brother,” he says quietly and proceeds to ease Waylon back into his seat.
The bastard is shaking in his construction boots, and adrenaline vibrates through my entire body as I stare at him, breathing heavily.
“Sit tight, Waylon,” Shane says.
“I didn’t do anything!” Waylon shouts, and when I start to move back toward him, Shane grips me by my shirt and shoves me out the door.
“What the fuck?” I mutter as he shuts the interrogation room door behind us and pushes me into the wall.
“What the fuck?” Shane snaps back, though his voice doesn’t match the level of anger of mine. “What are you doing, man?” he asks and releases my shirt.
“What am I doing?” I repeat through a scoff. “I’m doing my fucking job.”
“Oh no,” he says, shaking his head. “You’re not doing your job, man. You’re just straight-up losing it.”
“I’m not losing it.”
“You are,” he disagrees, and his mouth is set in a firm line as he stares back at me from against the opposite wall. “You and I both know that interrogation is the exact way to get the suspect to ask for a lawyer and fuck any chances we have of getting the information we need.”
I shake my head.
“Tell me, what information did you get in there?” he challenges. “Besides the fact that you can make him cry and piss his pants at the same time?”
I just glare at my partner.
“The answer is you didn’t learn shit,” he keeps going. “You didn’t learn a single fucking thing. All you did was make him so scared he’s probably not capable of giving us anything we need.”
Deep down, I know what he’s saying is true. But fuck, sitting across from that scumbag after hearing the fucked-up shit he’s said to Hannah makes me want to crawl out of my skin.
“Take a walk, man,” Shane says, and all I see is disappointment on his face. “Take a fucking walk and cool off.”
“And what are you going to do?”
“I’m going to go back in there and see if I can salvage something from this guy.” The disappointment in his voice is enough to make my head fall back and my eyes slide closed. “Since you came in here on a fucking rampage, I didn’t get to give you the good news. The captain wants a rundown on all of the CMA callers we still need to interview. And if we don’t provide him with good enough evidence to keep this much manpower on the case, he’s going to pull the CMA tap ASAP.”