Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 89224 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 446(@200wpm)___ 357(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89224 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 446(@200wpm)___ 357(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
“No,” she cuts him off, shaking her head frantically. “Do you have kids?”
He nods, but she already knew the answer to that question. Anyone walking into his office would have a hard time missing the photos of his wife and kids placed on the shelf at his back—a place of honor and a reminder of why he’s doing this job. “Then you know you would do anything.” She shakes her head once more. “Anything to protect them, anything to fight for them, and if someone ever hurt them, you would want to know who they are, so you could make sure they are punished.”
I grit my teeth at her words and the obvious pain wrapped around them.
Chief Marshall looks from Martinez to me, then sits back in his chair and scrubs his fingers over his cropped hair.
“Okay.” He drags in a breath. “We can’t make promises, Mrs. Taylor, but know the two men behind you haven’t forgotten your daughter or her friend, and they have been just as frustrated as you are.” That’s a fucking understatement. “I’ll make some calls and get our guys the information they don’t have on the case and ensure they have full access to anything they need.
“Thank you.” She slumps in her chair like that was all the fight she had left in her, and she syphoned the rest of it to come here and plead her case. To get someone to listen.
“They will be in touch with you if they find anything.”
“Okay.” She gathers her bag from the floor and stands quickly like she wants to get out of here before he changes his mind. “Okay, thank you again.”
“You’re welcome.” Chief Marshall’s face softens. “And please know that I’m— that we are all very sorry for your loss and what happened to your girl and her friend.”
She doesn’t speak, just nods, and when she turns to face Martinez and me, I can see why she didn’t bother trying. Her face is blotchy, eyes red-rimmed, and cheeks still wet with the tears she hasn’t wiped away.
“Thank you,” she whispers to the two of us before she rushes out the door.
When it closes behind her, I turn back to face the chief.
“You’ll have an email from me by Wednesday afternoon with everything they have on that case, along with a court order for the phone records, if they haven’t already been pulled.”
I nod and see Martinez do the same out the corner of my eye.
“It goes without saying that whoever did this needs to be behind bars, but more than anything, that woman needs some closure. So, do what you need to do to give it to her.”
Shit, I already knew I liked Chief Marshall when Tucker and I were assigned by the FBI to come here and start digging for the corruption that had been brought to their attention. Meeting him, I doubted he was involved, and over time, I knew my gut was right. His deputy chief, on the other hand, is as slimy as they come, and so are the men that snake keeps close. The case Tucker and I have been building against them is painstakingly slow, but every day, we add another bar to the jail cell they will soon be living inside.
“Got it,” Martinez rumbles, and I jerk up my chin.
“Keep me up to date,” Chief mutters, dismissing us. Martinez turns for the door, opening it, and I step out before him.
“Fucking finally,” he says when we’ve cleared the hall. “I don’t know about you, but I’m really interested in seeing what information those motherfuckers have gotten and what they’ve been up to these last few weeks, if anything.”
“I wouldn’t expect to find a lot in the files Marshall is able to get. Even if he requests them, they could still hold information back just to fuck with us,” I mutter as we step outside. The two of us had been getting ready to take off for the evening when the chief called us into his office. Neither of us had a clue what he wanted to talk to us about, so we were surprised to find a woman seated across from him at his desk, and even more surprised when he introduced her as Grace’s mom.
“We’ll start from the bottom and figure it out.”
“Yeah,” I agree, stopping at the door to my SUV. “I’ll see you Monday.”
“See you then.” He takes off to his car, and I get in mine. As I’m driving out of the parking lot, I dial Emma’s number.
“Hey,” she answers, her tone soft—just like it was this morning when I was inside her.
“Are you off work?”
“Yeah, I’m home. Are you off?” I ignore the way “home” sounds wrong when I know she’s not at my house, in my kitchen hanging with Winter, or now in my bed.