Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 85876 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 429(@200wpm)___ 344(@250wpm)___ 286(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85876 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 429(@200wpm)___ 344(@250wpm)___ 286(@300wpm)
“God, Emma, I’m so sorry,” I whisper, gathering her into my arms as she cries.
“I don’t know what to do, M,” she sobs, and I close my eyes, resting my head on top of hers. “I’ve always wanted to be a mom.”
“I know you have.” I hug her tighter as her tears soak through the thin material of my shirt.
“I just don’t think I’m willing to give that up.”
“And you shouldn’t have to.”
“But I love him,” she whimpers, and tears fill my eyes. I know she loves him, yet I also know she’s always wanted to be a mom, and she’ll be an amazing one. “I would never ask him to give up something as big as having a family.”
“Emma.”
“I just don’t know what I’m going to do, M.”
“You don’t have to decide that right now,” I tell her gently, and she pulls away from me and sits up, wiping her cheeks.
“I told him I was moving out.” She shakes her head.
“You can stay with me and Kingston,” I assure her instantly, and more tears fill her eyes. “Whatever you decide, you’ll be okay. You know I’m here for you.” I reach out and wipe the wetness from her cheeks, and she takes my hand in hers.
“I… I just need to figure things out. I need to figure out what I’m going to do.”
“And you will.” I squeeze her fingers wrapped around mine, then say gently, “You already have a key to my place. You should go there and take the day off.”
“I need to work.”
“You don’t. Your clients can all be called and rescheduled, and if Polly sees you crying while you’re washing someone’s hair, she’s going to send you home anyway.”
“You’re right,” she concedes after a moment, and I breathe a sigh of relief. I thought it would be harder to convince her to leave for the day. “Eli isn’t home, so I’ll stop by our place.” Her chin wobbles, and her eyes fill with a fresh wave of tears. “And get some clothes to hold me over for a couple of days.”
“I can drive you,” I offer as we both stand, and she drags in a breath, letting it out slowly.
“No, I’ll be okay. I’ll go next door and grab a coffee before I get in my car.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m sure.” She steps toward me, and I wrap my arms around her, hugging her as tight as I can. “I’ll see you tonight when you get home.” She lets me go and takes a step back, and I watch as she gathers herself together before turning toward the door.
I step out of the office behind her and walk with her to the front desk, ushering her on before going to Sammy and telling her to reschedule all her appointments for the day. Feeling at a loss for how to help my best friend, because it feels like she’s always the one helping me, I take my next client wondering how much time I would get for murder.
Because Eli, for sure, has just been added to my hit list.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
tucker
Stepping out of the interrogation room, with Miles on my heels, my gaze connects with the officer leaning against the wall outside.
“You can take him to booking,” I say quietly, and he jerks up his chin before walking past us into the interrogation room, where we just left a crying Paul Lane. The tears are not for Amara—his long-time girlfriend—or for his two boys, who will now be forced to grow up without their mom and dad. But instead, they’re for the freedom he just lost.
Two weeks ago, Amara found the courage to run from him after years of abuse, and last night, right before I got the call while lying on the couch with Miranda, Paul finally tracked his ex down at her grandmother’s house. Unlike all the times before, when he would show up with gifts and apologies, he showed up with gun and shot her as soon as she opened the door, while her boys—four and six—slept inside.
It took us three hours and about a dozen officers to track him down at his new girlfriend’s house across town, and four hours for Miles and me to get a confession out of him. We already knew he committed the murder of Amara. Her grandmother witnessed him driving off in his car after she heard the gun shot and found her granddaughter dead in her doorway. But we needed the confession and the location of the gun to avoid complications down the road when he’s in front of a jury.
Walking to my desk, I take a seat in my chair and scrub my hands down my face. I’m fucking exhausted.
“I’ll call Amara’s grandma,” Miles says quietly from his desk, and I pull my hands away to look at him. “She’ll want to know he’s confessed.”