Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 81245 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 406(@200wpm)___ 325(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81245 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 406(@200wpm)___ 325(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
His condolences sound about as sincere as a politician promising to never raise taxes. “How long is she gone?”
“Two weeks. Bahamas.” Maybe he's just jealous, because that sounds pretty nice right now.
I probably shouldn’t go alone, but at the same time, I don't want to have to wait another two weeks if I don't have to. The funeral home said they were ready as soon as the police were done. I’ve been feeling ready for closure now that I have more of the answers, even if we might never know exactly what happened.
My chest goes tight, the reality of the loss hitting me hard. It's all ups and downs. Sometimes I'm so busy that I don't have time to think about it, but then something reminds me, and the fact that she's gone for good just slams into me. No more showing up suddenly, rekindling the hope that this time, she's going to get clean and get away from Jay. No more visits with Logan where I can see her wondering what life would be like if things were different.
“Ms. Vale?”
I make a snap decision, for better or worse. “I'll be down in a little bit. Is it at the police station?”
“No, it’s around the back of the hospital. I'll text you the address. Ask for me when you get here. Ken Hayes. I'm around all afternoon.”
“Right. Thank you.”
“Sure. And again, sorry for your loss.” Then he hangs up, leaving me to get my feelings bottled up enough that I don't go back into the living room bawling.
I know I’m going to get chewed out for going on my own, so I thank Paige and her boys for their hospitality and tell them we’re driving back up to the club. Logan's definitely not happy about leaving. They might not be his regular motorcycle men, but he likes Crank, Savage and Poe too. Especially Poe, I think. But he says goodbye politely and waves on our way out.
“Good job, Lo. You're being really good right now.”
“Okay, Mommy,” says the gloomiest boy who ever gloomed.
“Listen, we're going for a little car ride first. I need to talk to some people. Maybe we can get donuts on the way home?” I'm not big on bribing him just for a trip out, but these are weird times, and they call for unusual methods.
“Donuts?” The gloom evaporates immediately, and he throws himself happily into the car seat.
The address isn't too far from the hospital. It’s across the street in a complex owned by Blackwell. The front faces the street, clearly marked as a forensic center, but the parking lot is around the back. It feels a little cramped and exposed, despite the security cameras on posts overlooking it. Everything is very professional and well-marked though, so I take Logan's hand and bring him with me. He looks around curiously, clutching the plush helmet tight. It's not the kind of place that looks likely to have a play area while we wait.
I ask for Ken Hayes at the counter, and the lady in reception looks him up and calls him down. He's a stocky man, who looks about as emotionally shallow as he sounded on the phone. He waves us along and we follow him down a hallway. Down some stairs. Another hallway. This place is a maze once you get past the reception.
“Can we go home now?” Logan asks unhappily. Even the draw of a donut doesn't override the dreariness of office hallways. I get it.
“Pretty soon, Lo.” I squeeze his hand, and hope I'm right. There can only be so much maze here, right?
As if in response, Ken pauses in front of a door and opens it for us. “In here.”
The room is a loading dock. There's a man standing there, with his back to me. What the heck? “I don't understand, why are we…” I trail off when I see Ken with a gun out and pointing at us. “What's going on?”
The man turns, and the bottom falls out of my stomach. “Ms. Vale,” Officer Dillard—or Jay—says. “Step into the car, please.”
“Mommy?” Logan asks nervously, picking up on the vibe in the room. He grabs my leg with one hand and squeezes the helmet close with the other.
“Shh, Lo. It's going to be alright.”
I hope.
34
STIFF
“You seriously don't care if we gun the fucker down?” I raise a questioning eyebrow at Detective Chen who's behind cover with me, waiting for Dillard to show up. Out of an abundance of caution, Hellfire decided to share what we found out about Dillard to her after all, but not until she was here. From the fury when he told her, I think she suffers traitors about as much as we do, which is not at all.
“Yes, of course I do, but I’m not an idiot. I know you wouldn’t have set this up if you were going to let him live, and I’m not going to lose sleep over pond scum like him. Honestly, it’s less paperwork. You’re saving the city money.” Her voice is cold and even. She's a fucking hunter. I can appreciate that.