Total pages in book: 133
Estimated words: 124341 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 622(@200wpm)___ 497(@250wpm)___ 414(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 124341 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 622(@200wpm)___ 497(@250wpm)___ 414(@300wpm)
The other story that caught Mark’s attention was about money said to be missing from the Department of Development and Urban Housing in New York. Some officials were calling for an investigation, though those being accused were claiming the discrepancy was a simple case of human error and that nothing untoward had happened. To make matters more suspicious, however, the accounting data drives had gone missing, so the accountants were having to recreate the records from what data was available. Mark read through a few statements of various officials, some calling the whole situation outrageous and corrupt, others saying that an explainable situation was being blown out of proportion by windbags looking for a crime that wasn’t there.
He scrolled forward on all three sites he’d brought up, noting that neither story had been mentioned since the school shooting had occurred.
“Well, aren’t you all lucky?” Mark muttered, thinking of those involved in the scandals that had been front-page stories two days ago and now weren’t even back-page news.
Only he had a very strong feeling there was more than luck involved. And four young teachers paid the price.
Mark closed the browser and opened his phone, dialing his wife’s number. She picked up on the second ring. “Hi! I didn’t expect to hear from you until tonight.”
Mark smiled, leaning his head back on the headrest. Just the sound of her voice brought him the calm he sought. Humans could be so damn wicked, and though it was his job to hunt them down and capture them, he was human too, and sometimes the evil he uncovered plain depressed him. He let the gratitude for his wife, Laurie, wash through him. He never took it for granted. He’d almost lost her, and he never let himself forget it. Not to death but to heartbreak and misunderstanding, doubt and despair. They’d made it though, and because they’d walked through that valley and emerged together, they were stronger than ever.
“I had a minute and thought I’d call.”
“I’m glad you did.”
“What are you up to?” he asked her, needing to hear about some normalcy.
“I just got home from Jak and Harper’s. They had some errands they wanted to run together, and I watched Eddie for them. That boy never stops, I swear. I’m worn out.” But the way she said it made Mark smile too.
Mark had played a part in solving not only the crime Jak was wrongly accused of but the mystery of the young man’s parentage and background after he’d been discovered having lived alone in the wilderness for much of his life. Mark and Laurie had grown very close to Jak and his wife, Harper, in the aftermath. And now, their four-year-old little boy was as much their grandson as their flesh and blood would have been if their daughter, Abbi, had lived and had children. They adored little Edmond Fairbanks and loved nothing more than spoiling him rotten. Mark didn’t feel an ounce of guilt about it either. Eddie’s parents kept him grounded and enforced the rules. Grandfathers’ boundaries were different, and he pushed each and every one. The balance worked.
“Tell them all I said hi.”
“I will. Jak thought…you might have some news for him.”
“Not yet. I’m confirming a few things first. But it looks…similar.”
Laurie let out a breath. “Oh.” A lot was contained in that little word, and Mark heard it all. She paused for a moment. “I read that the suspect took his own life.”
“Yes,” Mark confirmed. “But there’s someone else…of interest. Like I said, I’m still trying to confirm a few things.” He scrubbed his hand down his face. Damn, he was tired. He hadn’t slept well the night before, tossing and turning and trying to put things together from the little he had. “Or at least draw the outlines of a picture, if there’s one to draw.”
“Let your gut point the way,” she said.
The fact that she still trusted his gut—and maybe now more than ever—was another small miracle. He’d turned away from what he knew to be true once in an effort to avoid his pain. He’d figured things out in the nick of time. But he had, and that was the important thing. That gratitude again. That she was on the other line, and she was his.
“I will,” he said. “I love you.”
“I love you too.”
Mark disconnected the call and sat there for another minute, staring at the nondescript apartment building where Jason Leads had lived. He thought of the photo again, of the guy and his dead grandmother, picturing the man’s hefty build. The witnesses had described the gunman as very muscular, though eyewitness descriptions were notoriously faulty, especially in high-stress situations.
But where were all his other guns? A shooter rarely had only one.
Let your gut point the way.
His gut told him this was exactly what he thought it was.