Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 103027 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 515(@200wpm)___ 412(@250wpm)___ 343(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103027 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 515(@200wpm)___ 412(@250wpm)___ 343(@300wpm)
“Hey, sorry to interrupt, but we’ve got a walk-in.” She raised an eyebrow. Walk-ins were not the usual at Sinclair Security. At what they charged, people didn’t just wander in off the street. For one thing, you needed a referral to even find them. “She insists it’s urgent.”
“What aren’t you saying?” Cooper asked, reading something in his wife’s face, noting the grin she was trying to suppress.
“You’re not going to believe this, but Sylvie Calloway is sitting in our lobby. She’s working on a case, and she wants to talk to us.”
I had no idea who Sylvie Calloway was, but Cooper appeared to. I looked around at the rest of the team, who seemed equally clueless.
“Who the hell is Sylvie Calloway?” Ryder asked what we were all wondering.
“She’s one of Alice’s favorite murder podcasters,” Cooper answered with a grin at his wife. “She helped solve a cold case last year.”
“You mean one of those true crime people?” Miranda asked.
“Pretty much, yeah,” Alice said cheerfully. “Eli, you’re up.”
I started to shake my head, but Cooper sent me a grin that was almost a smirk. “Sorry, man, but she’s right. Maddox is backing up Emmett since Lucas left him in charge of the division while he has half the team with him on that assignment in Miami. Miranda’s working out some project assignments with Ryder and Alice, so I can’t spare her. Ditto for Ryder. And Wren and Shade are both due time off.”
“I don’t need time off,” Wren said, but Shade elbowed her and shook her head.
“Can it. You know we both need a day or two.”
“Yeah, but I want to meet the podcaster,” Wren said under her breath.
“Nah, make Eli do it. It’ll irritate the shit out of him.” The grin I got from Shade was definitely a smirk.
“Fine,” I said. “But if she has a microphone, I’m chucking it out the window.”
“As long as you don’t chuck her out after it,” Alice said, following me down the hall.
I wasn’t making any promises.
Chapter Three
ELI
Ifollowed Alice down the hall, watching her fifties-style dress—white with red cherries, swirl around her quick-moving legs. Alice, I’d learned, was a ball of energy who ruthlessly organized everyone in sight. She was so good at it that no one complained. She and Miranda had hit it off immediately, bonding over a love of to-do lists.
I hadn’t pegged Alice for a true crime junkie. Maybe I’d assumed that being in the thick of the real business—the kind that regularly put her husband and his team in danger—would have jaded her, but she seemed to fizz with excitement. By the time we stepped into the small yet elegant lobby, she’d tamped down her exuberance, covering it with a professional sheen.
“Miss Calloway,” she said.
I came to a stop in front of the woman sitting on a small love seat, the heels of her sneakers bouncing restlessly against the floor. Whatever I had thought a murder podcaster would look like, Sylvie Calloway was not it. She came to her feet, a little wobbly, her pulse visibly thudding in her neck. Shaky. Anxious. There was a smear on her cheek that looked like mud or soot. The rest of her wasn’t any cleaner than her face. Her jeans were filthy, and she had a bloody scrape on her hand that hadn’t been cleaned. If I had to guess, I would have said she was straight off a fairly gnarly weeklong camping trip, not visiting an exclusive security agency to conduct an interview.
Sylvie met my eyes, then looked to Alice as Alice said, “This is Elias Bishop. Eli. I’ll show you two to one of our meeting rooms, and you can tell Eli what’s going on and see how we can help.”
“I don’t know that I need help,” Sylvie Calloway said, her eyes narrowing as she looked at me. “I have questions.”
She didn’t need help? I wasn’t sure about that. Sylvie Calloway was a mess. But her response was interesting. It showed me she had a backbone and wasn’t bothered by the scrapes or her appearance. I found myself mildly curious as to what she had to say. But that didn’t mean I was ready to babysit some podcaster. My job had given me a healthy suspicion of the media in general.
“I’m sure Eli can answer your questions,” Alice said with a bright smile. She stabbed a look in my direction that said I’d better take care of whatever her favorite podcaster needed.
I had no interest in pissing Alice off. Aside from the fact that she made things run smoothly at Sinclair Security, I liked her. But the jury was still out on Sylvie Calloway.
I wasn’t a fan of the whole “true crime” thing. And civilians going out there with a microphone, investigating crime? No fucking way. It was a mess from start to finish. This was a tough business for trained investigators. They didn’t need some know-it-all wannabe celebrity with a mic in her hand to complicate shit.