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)
As I read, unease twisted my stomach.
Her account made this man seem cold and thorough. Like he was someone who wouldn’t like how she’d gotten away. She’d heard his confession and seen his face, which made her a loose end. So, why hadn’t the suspect killed her in her hotel room?
The only thing that was clear to me was that Laurel Hayward was lucky to be alive.
My phone vibrated, the screen flashing Bill’s name.
“Why am I on this assignment?” I asked, struggling not to sound ungrateful. I was finally back in the field, so I shouldn’t complain, but I couldn’t keep my damn mouth shut. “Is this because of Nelson?”
“Actually, yeah,” my boss replied. “But not why you think.”
“You notice she’s a woman? And I’m not?”
“Oh, really? No, I hadn’t noticed,” he said dryly. “Get over it, Dunn. You’re someone I want to handle it.”
That gave me pause. “Why’s that?”
“They’re still working with the laptop, but there’s evidence that ties him to the Driskell case.”
Shit.
Driskell was a federal judge who’d been murdered in November. He’d been stopped at a red light when a car rolled up beside him and unloaded the contents of a 9mm into the judge’s face. There’d been no movement on the case for months. No witnesses, no incriminating evidence, and absolutely no leads.
“We got squat from the hotel’s cameras.” I could hear every ounce of frustration in Bill’s voice. “So, I need Ms. Hayward to go through the mug shot collection I’m sending over now, as soon as possible.”
I glanced down the hall to the door she’d closed less than an hour ago. “She’s asleep.”
“Well, you’re a smart guy. I’m sure you’ll find a way to remedy that. The sooner we have an ID, the better.”
Dammit. I struggled to find a reason to keep him on the phone, to delay the inevitable, but the call ended less than a minute later. I eyed the closed door like a bomb might be hidden behind it.
I knocked quietly, but there was no response from the other side. She was probably out cold, and the thought pulled a sigh from my lungs. After what she’d been through, she deserved some rest, didn’t she? I didn’t like that I’d have to deny her that.
There was no response to my second, louder knock, which forced my hand again.
Laurel was lying on top of the covers with her back to me, and the basic male part of me couldn’t help but look at her. She wore jeans and a sweater that clung to her curves and long legs. Her breathing was slow and even, and she looked so goddamn vulnerable, an urge to curl up beside her tumbled through me like a bullet.
I didn’t like standing there, looking at her with inappropriate and unprofessional thoughts in my head, and blinked back my self-directed disgust. What the fuck was wrong with me?
“Laurel,” I said. It was more proof of how badly this girl disrupted my thoughts. I’d used her first name twice now without her approval.
She rolled over, pushed her hair back out of her face, and blinked her sleepy eyes at me. Abruptly, she bolted upright, suddenly aware of her surroundings. Her expression filled with fear.
“No, it’s okay. Nothing’s wrong.” I kept my tone calm and reassuring. “My boss is hoping you’re willing to look at some more photos.” I fully expected her to tell me no, to say she was too tired.
Instead, she nodded.
She rolled off the mattress, rose slowly to her feet, and gave me a resigned look. Even exhausted, she refused to be beaten. Refused to let that asshole win.
And that? It was something I understood. It made respect flare inside me.
6
LAUREL
I followed Jason into the kitchen and sat at the table where a laptop had been set up. He showed me how to start and pause the slideshow that displayed the photos, one at a time. After a while, the faces that flashed on screen began to take on a similar look. They had the same amount of contempt in their eyes, and I found it difficult to stomach.
When the screen went black, he told me I was done.
“Are there more?” I asked.
“More?”
“Photos for me to look at?”
He frowned. “Yeah, but you’re allowed to get some rest.”
I was tired, but it was doubtful I’d be able to fall back asleep, and I was determined to be useful in the meantime. “I’m fine. Let me do another one.”
He pressed his lips together and typed into the search fields, queuing up a new slideshow.
I wasn’t sure how much time passed before he stood beside my chair, leaned over, and hit the spacebar to pause the video. “I’m sure someone asked already, but do you need me to call anyone to let them know you’re all right?” Since the FBI had taken my phone. “Family? Friends? A boyfriend, girlfriend?”