Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 104185 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 521(@200wpm)___ 417(@250wpm)___ 347(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104185 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 521(@200wpm)___ 417(@250wpm)___ 347(@300wpm)
“No, Deputy.”
He swallowed an uneasy breath. “It’s Jason.”
“No, Jason,” I amended. “I’m better now.”
The drive led us out of the city as the weekend traffic began to flow in. Derrick drove while Jason scrolled on his phone. Neither marshal said much to the other. Had they not worked together before? That sort of made sense. I was sure it wasn’t true, but Derrick looked younger than I was.
I thought I’d be too stressed to sleep during the hour-long drive, but my eyes grew heavy and fell closed.
Abruptly, something jolted me awake.
“Green Civic behind us.” Derrick’s voice was clipped. “Could be nothing.”
Jason peered at the side mirror. “For how long?”
“Honestly, I don’t know. But he’s been with us since we got off of the Kennedy.”
“I’ll call it in. You got the plate?”
Derrick nodded. I tensed and fought the urge to turn and look at whoever was following us. But as soon as Jason brought his phone to his ear—
“He’s turning.” The younger deputy sounded sheepish. “I said it could be nothing.”
The safe house was, in fact, a house, and it was nestled in a wooded area on the edge of a forest preserve. The single-car garage was attached to a seventies ranch-style home with zero curb appeal. The cement front porch sloped badly toward the crack-riddled driveway.
“It’s not much to look at, but that’s kind of the point,” Jason said as he pulled the back car door open for me.
I followed the men onto the porch, through the front door, and found the decor matched the tone set outside. Furniture that had once been nice was chipped and stained, but appeared to still be in working order.
“This all right?” Jason’s indifferent tone said it didn’t matter either way. The living room was small. There was a galley-style kitchen in the back and a hallway that led to the two bedrooms and bathroom.
“It’s fine.” I could survive here for a few days.
“That one’s yours.” He pointed to the bedroom that was farthest from the street. When I moved toward it, he reached out to stop me but pulled back as if he thought better of it. “Derrick’s going on a food run. What do you want?”
“Just some sleep. I’m not hungry.”
“And if you were hungry? Burger and fries?” He gauged my reaction. “Salad?”
I wasn’t trying to be rude, but I was on total overwhelm, so I simply nodded. That seemed like the fastest way to be dismissed.
Once Derrick had everyone’s order, he went out the front door, and the moment it closed behind him, it meant I was once again alone with Jason. Weird tension filled the room, and it grew worse with every breath I took. The idea of two days together in this small house? It made everything feel like it was upside-down.
I offered nothing as I left him and retreated to my room, desperate to escape his intense gaze.
The bedroom was dim and small, but it was safe, and I drew in a calming breath. It allowed me to collect my thoughts.
What was the marshal’s deal? If I opened the door, would he still be out there, wearing the same pissed-off expression he’d been moments before? I wasn’t sure what I’d done, but it seemed to have displeased him.
Like I care, I said silently.
There was the tiniest twinge that answered back and called me a liar.
I sat on the edge of the bed, sinking into the mattress as my mind drifted elsewhere. What was Albina doing now? She was probably at the studio, sewing in elastic and ribbon to a new pair of pointe shoes. Her choreography was more intense, so she burned through hers even faster than I did, which were only lasting a few performances these days.
The heaviness of all that had happened pressed down and threatened to crush me as I curled up on the bed. My career had just begun, and now? Would it be over? We theater people were superstitious, and I’d forever be known as the girl who was onstage during the shooting.
Shit. Would I be tethered to this tragedy for the rest of my life?
5
JASON
I was both relieved and frustrated when Laurel disappeared into her room. Whenever we were together, it was awkward and tense, leaving me on edge, and yet . . . I didn’t want her out of my sight. It had nothing to do with the bizarre charge I felt whenever she was near, I reassured myself.
Last time she’d been alone in a bathroom, she’d broken down. What if it happened again? I wasn’t capable of giving her a shoulder to cry on.
With her tucked away in her room, I sat on the couch and finished reviewing the statements she’d given to the FBI after each shooting. The first account was brief and vague. The second statement detailed her encounter with the suspect, starting from the hotel elevator and ending when she’d run to the safety of two CPD officers.