Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 107254 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 536(@200wpm)___ 429(@250wpm)___ 358(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107254 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 536(@200wpm)___ 429(@250wpm)___ 358(@300wpm)
“Do you lock your door every time you leave?” Charlie asks as I turn the handle and walk back into the apartment.
“I’m not that stupid,” I huff out, opening the door.
“Okay, you need to check and make sure nothing is missing,” Charlie directs to me. Right before I’m about to step into the apartment, I feel an arm around my waist, pulling me to him, his chest on my back. “I think what Emmett is trying to say is, why don’t you walk behind us?” He chuckles and then walks in past us.
My hand goes to his arm. “I’ve already been inside,” I throw over my shoulder, “and I’m pretty sure he’s not in there.”
“You can’t be too safe,” he reminds me, and when I look over my shoulder at him, my heart speeds up for a whole different reason.
“It’s all clear,” Charlie assures me, and Emmett still doesn’t let me go, “but we should call the sheriff.”
“Get your phone out,” he says, “and call them.” I can’t say anything to him. Instead, I just nod and pull out my phone and call the sheriff.
They tell me someone will be right out; the whole time Emmett is walking around the living room back and forth. Every single time I look up from the kitchen counter, it looks like he’s getting angrier and angrier.
“You going to say anything?” Charlie asks him, leaning his shoulder against the wall. “Better get it out now and not when the cops show up.”
“Nothing to say,” he replies, looking at me.
It takes someone thirty minutes to show up. “This should be fun,” Charlie says when the sheriff comes in and asks me routine questions.
He takes a look around. “Doesn’t look like there was forced entry.”
“Does it fucking matter?” Emmett questions. “She said someone was in her fucking house. Should he have left her a love note?”
The sheriff’s eyebrows go up. “There really is nothing here for me to do anything with.”
“So she plays sitting duck?” Emmett crosses his arms over his chest. “Great idea.”
“I can do a report and maybe talk to some of her neighbors, see if anyone has seen anything suspicious.” He puts his pad back in his back pocket. “Other than that, I’m stuck. My suggestion is to be more vigilant.” He looks at me. “Check and make sure the light stays on outside when you leave, morning and night.”
“She’s not staying here,” Emmett growls.
“What?” I whisper at the same time Charlie chuckles from behind me.
“She’s not staying here. It’s not safe.” He looks at Charlie, and then he looks at me, shocking the shit out of me. “Go and pack your stuff. You’ll be staying with me.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
EMMETT
The words are coming out of my mouth before I can even take them back. “She’s not staying here. It’s not safe.” I look over at Charlie, who is grinning like a Cheshire cat that just caught a bird, and I want to throat punch him. “Go and pack your stuff. You’ll be staying with me.”
“Um,” she says, and before she can answer, the sheriff looks back at her.
“Is there anyone you think is behind this?” His question throws me off, and I look over at Lilah, whose face goes white as she shakes her head. “Maybe a scorned lover?” She continues to shake her head. “Someone you were seeing who you broke up with?” Her head never stops moving side to side. “Someone who you maybe led on?”
“She answered the fucking question,” Charlie snaps before I have a chance to. My eyes watch her as she fidgets with her hands. “Now she needs to pack.” He looks at her. “Do you want me to come and help you—”
“I’ll help her,” I cut in. “You need to make some phone calls.”
“I do?” Charlie looks at me confused, and we share a look. “I do.” He nods. “I’ll walk you out, Sheriff.”
“If you find anything else while you are packing,” the sheriff says to her, “let us know.”
“I will,” she replies softly as she watches Charlie and the sheriff go out the door.
I wait for the door to be closed before I look over at her. “What are you leaving out?” I ask, and her neck moves back a bit as if she’s shocked. I saw she was hiding something. “You went white as a ghost when he asked you those questions.” She’s about to tell me she did not, so I hold up my hand. “Then you started fidgeting with your fingers, which means you’re nervous about something.” I raise my eyebrows. “I’ve been watching you a long time, Lilah.” Her eyes look a bit shocked. “So, yeah, I know you.”
“Of course I’m nervous about something!” she shrieks, trying to deflect. “Someone has been in my house”—her hands go up in the air and then come back down—“more than once, apparently.” Her voice rises and falls. “And he hasn’t broken in, so he’s either picking the lock or he’s a fucking ghost.” She yells out the last part. “Which means that this person comes in while I’m not here and goes through my stuff.” She puts one of her hands to her stomach. “Which is creepy as fuck, so that is why my face went white, and my hands started fidgeting.”