Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 103027 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 515(@200wpm)___ 412(@250wpm)___ 343(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103027 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 515(@200wpm)___ 412(@250wpm)___ 343(@300wpm)
I drifted off for a bit, never falling into a deep sleep, alert for any sound in the hall. I heard Eli use the bathroom at some point. Checked my phone to see it was only ten. Not that late, I thought. I drifted off for another hour and decided it had been long enough.
Leaving the light off in the bedroom, I slid from between the sheets and crept into the bathroom, trading the clothes I’d hidden for my pajamas. Then I cracked the door to my bedroom, tucked myself back under the covers, and waited.
Just after one, I caught the creak of the floor in the hall, the almost silent rustle of Eli’s cargo pants. I slipped from the bed and through my door just in time to catch him with his hand on the deadbolt.
“Going somewhere?” I asked brightly.
Eli startled and turned, scowling at me in the dim light coming from the kitchen. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he asked, eyeing my jeans and dark hoodie.
“Coming with you. What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
“Going out,” he said, lifting his chin. “You aren’t invited.”
“I’m inviting myself,” I said, closing the distance between us. “Where are we headed?”
“I’m not taking you.” Eli crossed his arms over his chest as if prepared to stonewall me as long as necessary. He was underestimating my tenacity, but I was used to that.
“Yes, you are. Because if you don’t,” I explained, “I’ll pitch a fit and waste your time and your energy. You don’t strike me as a guy who likes to waste his time and energy.”
Eli’s jaw clenched as he stared me down. I stared back, crossing my arms over my chest in a mirror of his posture.
It was time to make him understand.
“This is my case too,” I said. “And more than that, this is my life. You’re investigating Emily Shaw for what, a client? I’m investigating her because whoever killed her tried to kill me. Don’t tell me I don’t deserve to be a part of the investigation. I’m not going to get in the way, but you’re not leaving me out.”
Eli stared at me for a few seconds before coming to a decision. “Fine,” he said grudgingly. “Keep your hood up and your mouth shut. We’re going for a ride.”
I could do all the above. The last thing I wanted was to impede the investigation, after all. I just had to prove to Eli that I was a help, not a hindrance.
I didn’t say another word until I was buckled into Eli’s SUV, and we were out on the street headed for the highway.
“Where are we going?” I asked.
“Knoxville,” he said.
“The crime scene?” I pressed, trying to put the pieces together in my head.
“No,” Eli said. “The building where they’re holding the evidence from the crime scene.”
I waited for more, but he remained silent.
Finally, I gave in and pushed. “Why there? Aren’t they processing the evidence?”
“No. Everything was bagged and sent straight to cold storage. We don’t know why, except that they closed the case. We’re going to do some recon. Take pictures, get a feel for their security. We’ll send another team in if we decide it’s worth going after whatever they have.”
“What are you looking for specifically?” I knew what I would want, but I wanted to hear Eli’s answer.
“Her phone, laptop, and tablet. That would be the top three.”
His answer was the same as mine.
I nodded. “Good idea. It’s not like we have much else to follow.”
“No. You’ll wish you’d stayed behind and gotten a good night’s sleep.”
“Nope,” I said. “I told you. This is my case as much as it is yours. You’re not leaving me behind.”
Chapter Eight
ELI
Iexpected Sylvie to start chattering as we pulled onto the highway, the road stretching before us into the darkness. It was three hours and change to Knoxville—plenty of time to exchange life stories if I was inclined, which I wasn’t.
But Sylvie didn’t talk. She took off her hoodie and rolled it into a ball. Tucking it between her shoulder and the window, she snuggled in and seemed to fall asleep.
Why was I the tiniest bit annoyed by that? I didn’t know. That was the conundrum of Sylvie Calloway. I didn’t want a partner. I didn’t want to babysit some podcaster. I wanted to find Silas. And yeah, I wanted to know what had happened to Emily Shaw—mostly because she was tied to Silas, but also because Sylvie was right. The case was weird.
Emily Shaw had been a single woman who worked from home in data analysis. If she’d lived in D.C., I might have raised an eyebrow, but Knoxville wasn’t a hotbed of intrigue. And while the car bomb was interesting, the way the case had been buried so quickly left me with too many questions. I understood why Sylvie hadn’t been able to walk away, even before her van had exploded. So, yeah, I was invested on a couple of levels. But it didn’t mean I wanted a civilian glued to my side.