Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 103665 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 518(@200wpm)___ 415(@250wpm)___ 346(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103665 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 518(@200wpm)___ 415(@250wpm)___ 346(@300wpm)
Amka patted her arm. “You just wanted to help. Let’s search this place.”
“Like where?”
“I don’t know. Let’s tear the sofa apart.”
They did. They yanked the cushions loose and found nothing underneath but lint, a broken pen, and a handful of popcorn kernels. May flipped the whole frame, and Amka peered inside with a flashlight app, but found nothing but dust, a chewed-up receipt, and one sock.
They moved on. The dresser was mostly empty with just one drawer holding old T-shirts and a warped paperback wedged sideways. Amka leaned under the bed and brought out a bright lacy red bra.
May’s eyebrows rose. “I’m hoping that’s not yours.”
“No. Gross.” Amka threw it back under the old mattress. Jarod could sleep with whomever he wanted. She leaned down to see just more laundry, stiff with age. A cardboard box in the closet held a few receipts, an expired condom, and a cheap flashlight without batteries. Nothing digital. Nothing useful.
Amka’s stomach dipped. “His laptop isn’t here.”
“Are you sure he has a video?”
“Yes,” Amka said. “I’m absolutely positive. When he blackmailed me, he showed it to me on his phone.”
May dusted off her hands. “He must’ve taken his laptop and obviously his phone with him.”
How could Amka protect Flossy? “Maybe he’s already given that to somebody. Or it’s all digital on his phone.”
May exhaled. “We need to get our hands on his devices.”
“How are we going to do that?” Amka groaned. This was her only chance to search his place.
May shrugged. “I don’t know, but we can come up with a plan.” She paused. “If he could get injured somehow, you could bring him into my office. While I’m looking at him, you could go through his phone. And his computer.”
Amka hiccupped again. “Injured? What am I going to do? Hit him with my car?”
May looked at her. “Sometimes you gotta do what you gotta do.”
“I’m not sure my doctor’s supposed to be recommending a hit and run.”
“Well, I didn’t say you should kill him,” May muttered.
A sound clunked through the wall—metal on metal, maybe something dropped.
They both froze.
“Do you know who lives there?” May whispered.
“I have no clue,” Amka whispered. “I bet a couple of the tourists in town for the derby or for that influencer contest had to rent out here. Poor folks.”
May started moving back toward the bedroom. “We better get out of here.”
Amka followed and pushed herself through the window. She hit the ground hard, wet earth slick beneath her hands, pain firing through both knees. The cold soaked through her jeans instantly, and she bit down a curse. Mud smeared up her arms as she tried to scramble up, heart pounding.
May followed with less drama, landing soft on her feet like she did this sort of thing more often than she should.
“Can I ask what you two are doing?” The deep voice came right out of the darkness.
Amka yelped and backed straight into May. They both went down hard onto the wet ground.
Mud squelched up the back of Amka’s coat and seeped instantly into her jeans, cold and gritty. A flashlight beam sliced through the dark, landing full force in her face. She threw a hand up to block it, blinking fast. “Hey.”
“Sorry.” Dutch stepped in closer. His boots squashed into the mud with the sound of soaked paper. His brow was furrowed deep, flashlight still trained on them like he wasn’t sure if they were kids, burglars, or both. “What the hell’s going on?”
“Her fiancé lives here,” May blurted, already scrambling up. She grabbed Amka’s arm and hauled her up with her. Amka’s hands were shaking, legs soaked, hair stuck to her neck.
“Then why are you coming out the window?” Dutch asked, not moving.
Amka narrowed her eyes. “What are you doing out here, anyway?”
“I was looking around,” Dutch said calmly. “Like I normally do when we have folks rent one of these units. We’re having a drug problem, in case you hadn’t heard. For now, what’s going on here?”
“Drugs?” Amka asked, her breath still ragged, “with the folks next door?”
“Maybe,” Dutch said. “But again, why are you breaking and entering?”
May wiped a smudge of dirt off her cheek. “She’s not. Her fiancé lives here and she forgot her key.”
“Yeah,” Amka added weakly.
Dutch’s gaze narrowed.
The moon hung low, a pale, sharp-edged sliver cutting through the cloud cover. Crickets chirped along the tree line, the sound brittle and constant.
Dutch clicked the light off. “I get the feeling you’re not telling me the truth.”
Because she wasn’t.
“Come on,” May said quickly. She slid her arm through Amka’s. “We have to get going. Dutch, it was good seeing you.”
They turned fast and marched off, shoes squishing through the muck, breath fogging in the air between them.
“We’re not done with this,” he said quietly after them.
“Darn it,” May hissed. “Do you think he’ll tell Jarod?”
Amka stumbled and then regained her footing. “Oh God, I hope not.”