Total pages in book: 56
Estimated words: 54572 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 273(@200wpm)___ 218(@250wpm)___ 182(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 54572 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 273(@200wpm)___ 218(@250wpm)___ 182(@300wpm)
I swallowed hard. “So what am I supposed to do?”
“Let her go,” Nita replied straight forward. “For now.”
The words felt like alcohol poured on an open wound.
“She didn’t run because of you,” Nita added. “She ran because staying would’ve forced her to confront parts of herself she’s not ready to face. You have to let her go, Dante.”
That was the final blow. I thanked her. Hung up. Sat there staring at the wall like it might offer a rebuttal.
Let her go.
It went against every instinct I had.
I was trained to pursue answers. To follow threads. To close loops. Walking away from an open question felt like failure. But this wasn’t a case.
This was a woman who’d survived by learning when to escape. And I’d promised her honesty, not ownership.
I wanted to call her. Wanted to tell her she didn’t have to figure everything out alone. Wanted to tell her I wasn’t going anywhere.
Instead, I set the phone down carefully and stepped back.
Her eyes hadn’t been empty because she didn’t feel anything. They’d been empty because she was holding everything in. And that told me one thing with absolute certainty, this wasn’t over.
Not because I couldn’t let her go.
But because whatever went dead inside her over forty-eight hours was still alive somewhere.
And when she was ready to face it, I would be ready too.
Chapter 5
Loco
The radio crackled just as Lamonte and I were pulling out of the gas station, coffee steaming between the cup holders, the city still caught somewhere between dusk and night.
“Go figure,” Lamonte muttered. “I swear dispatch has a sixth sense for caffeine.”
We were on the other side of town from the call on the radio. Another unit chimed in claiming the job, but we headed in that general direction in case back up was needed. Not too much longer before shift change. I had managed to settle it in my mind that this call would be the last before shift change. Another day, another dollar, the night was a quiet one.
Something a cop never said aloud because it was a curse. Apparently, thinking it was just as bad.
I was smiling when his phone rang. That was the last normal moment of the night.
Lamonte glanced at the screen, his brow furrowing. “It’s Nita.”
He answered on the second ring. “Hey—”
Whatever she said hit him like a punch. His body snapped rigid, shoulders locking, eyes cutting to me for half a second before he turned the car in a different direction. Good thing we didn’t radio in that we would be on scene for backup yet. Whatever Nita said, we had a different call to answer apparently.
“Slow down,” he commanded, voice calm but tight. “Nita, slow down. What do you mean out of sorts?”
I felt it then. That low, crawling dread that started at the base of my spine and worked its way up.
Lamonte listened, nodding, running a hand over his face. “You couldn’t understand her how?”
Another pause. His jaw clenched. “She’s at her apartment?”
My chest went hollow. It was instinct that screamed this call was about Char.
Lamonte didn’t look at me when he said, “Yeah. We’ll check on her. We’re close.”
He hung up and tossed his phone on the dash as he flipped on lights and sirens while heading towards Char’s apartment complex. Were we breaking procedure? Yes. Did I care? Not at all.
“What’s going on?” I asked, though part of me already knew.
“Nita says Char called her,” he shared, passing through an intersection.. “She was off. Slurring. Not making sense. Sounded scared but wouldn’t say why. Her phone location put her at her apartment.”
The word her landed like a bruise. “She ask for help?” I asked.
“No,” he said. “Which scares the hell out of her.”
It scared the hell out of me too. I was already pulling up the address in my head, already seeing the layout of the building, the narrow stairwell, the way the light flickered in the hall because the landlord never fixed a damn thing unless the city made him.
“Did Nita call it in?” I asked.
“She wanted us to go first,” Lamonte said. “Said Char would shut down if uniforms showed up.”
That tracked. Char hated attention. Hated feeling like a problem that needed fixing.
I stared out the windshield as the city blurred past, lights streaking across the glass. I hadn’t seen her in two weeks. Two weeks shouldn’t be enough time for the world to fall apart.
But it was.
We parked half a block away, lights off, instincts already humming. The building looked the same as always—worn brick, narrow windows, a single flickering porch light that did more shadowing than illuminating.
No movement. No sound. Lamonte checked the door to the stairwell. Unlocked. Unusual but not unheard of.
“Metro Police,” he called out as we stepped inside. “Charlaina?” Her neighbor across the breezeway moved out three weeks ago and to my knowledge no one else had been moved in yet. This meant Char was the only resident on the second floor.