Total pages in book: 142
Estimated words: 136507 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 683(@200wpm)___ 546(@250wpm)___ 455(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 136507 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 683(@200wpm)___ 546(@250wpm)___ 455(@300wpm)
Then again, it isn’t every day she learns we’re no closer to finding her best friend than we were a month ago.
“She’s dealing with a lot,” Logan says, almost echoing my thoughts. “Whatever that girl said, it really got under Isla’s skin.”
A shoe scuff against the concrete is the only warning before Dillon descends on me. “What the hell was that?” he barks, as if I were the one on the ice, throwing down.
“That’s what I’m trying to figure out. Logan saw Erin say something to Isla that set her off.” Those two girls have known each other since grade two. At one point, they were close.
Dillon shoots a glare at Logan before dismissing him without so much as a greeting. “It doesn’t matter. Physical violence is never the answer.”
“Yes, we agree on that,” I say slowly, trying to keep my cool. “I told her about Holly’s case before the game, and maybe that—”
“You did what?” And there goes Dillon’s hands on his hips. Every time he takes that stance, I want to punch him in the face. “Why would you do that before a game?”
“Because I figured it was better she hear it from me than through the Cold River grapevine.”
He purses his lips—a move that says he knows I’m right but will chew off his tongue before he admits it. “You had no right to make a decision like that without running it by me first.”
“Oh, fuck off.” I’ve had enough. I turn away, intent on finding Isla in the change room.
“Hey! We’re not finished.” Dillon grabs my forearm.
In an instant, Logan moves in, his shoulders squared off.
“I’m fine,” I warn, my hand in the air to keep him at bay. If I wanted to, I could knock Dillon on his ass in a blink.
Dillon releases his grip of me and lowers his voice to say, “Honestly, Em. You’re already taking heat with Holly’s investigation and now you chum up to him in front of half the town?”
“I can still hear you.” Logan’s smirk is crooked.
“Don’t you have a curfew to abide?” Dillon snipes.
“Don’t you have a mistress to get back to?” Logan retorts without missing a beat.
“Stop causing a scene. Both of you,” I scold as skaters battle over the puck nearby.
“You’re doing that all on your own.” Dillon leans against the glass, feigning attention to the action on the ice.
“I haven’t done anything except come here to watch my daughter play hockey.” And slide in a little soft suspect questioning. “And as far as me taking heat for Holly, it’s what happens when a missing person isn’t found. It’s unavoidable. But the investigation is ongoing, and these officers are doing their jobs.”
“They’re gone. On to another case.”
“They’re following orders from the regional office who pay them. As soon as a new lead comes in, Terry and Schmidt will be on it.”
“There’s no way they looked into every lead. No way.” He folds his arms. “Brad Whitley’s already called me twice today, demanding more officers on the case. And I agree with him. This is unacceptable.”
“More officers won’t magically produce new leads.” I force a wide smile. “And I’m managing with what you voted to give me. Any time you want to add budget, I’ll be more than happy to increase headcount.”
He shakes his head. “You can never handle not having the last word, can you?”
“You want the last word? You’ve got it.” I spin on my heels and march down the hall toward the change room just as Cold River scores.
Chapter 27
Logan
“For fuck’s sake,” Dillon curses as the opposing team ties the game.
“It’s only the first period.” I don’t know why I bother trying to make him feel better. The only thing I like about Dillon is that he’s Emery’s ex and not still her husband.
“Why are you here?” He makes a point of looking around. “At a children’s hockey game.”
I watch the Cold River team trade fist bumps with players on their bench. “Isla invited me.”
“Isla invited you,” he says doubtfully. “And when did she do that?”
“This morning, in the stables.”
“Why are you in the stables with my daughter, Logan?”
I hear the unspoken accusation in his tone, the suspicion. The way he says my name with complete disdain. Any chance of this being a civil conversation has evaporated. “Well, Dillon, we were shoveling horseshit, like we do every morning,” I say calmly. “And if I were you, I’d be way less concerned about that part and more concerned about what Isla’s going through right now.”
“Don’t tell me what I should be concerned about. She’s my daughter, not yours.”
“Only because I wasn’t around,” I blurt without meaning to. But it’s the truth. Emery would never have given this idiot a second chance.
He cocks his head. “Is that what this little thing”—he waggles his index finger back and forth between us—“is about? You’re mad that Emery married and had a child with me and not you?”