Total pages in book: 57
Estimated words: 71090 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 355(@200wpm)___ 284(@250wpm)___ 237(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71090 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 355(@200wpm)___ 284(@250wpm)___ 237(@300wpm)
He led us to the backdoor, and out onto the deck.
“Worry about what?” I asked.
He sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. “Her house was broken into last night. They took a couple of things. Little stuff. A vase she got for her wedding, and a picture album. Her computer was wiped.”
I pursed my lips, thinking about what he said. “Is it related to the ex?”
He shrugged. “David was on shift last night, so we know it wasn’t him. The girlfriend had an alibi. Not that I accused them of anything, but she made sure to offer one up.”
I nodded.
My eyes scanned over his backyard.
It was nice.
Large.
Everything that I didn’t want.
I wanted wide open space. I didn’t want a place that was confined by a fence.
I wanted to be able to walk out my backyard, and not see a neighbor in sight.
What I also wanted was for my brother to stop worrying about me.
I’d been living with Miller and Mercy ever since my accident, and you’d think I was their child with the way they treated me.
Always making sure I was alright. Making sure I had every uplifting hand they could offer.
“Here,” I said, handing over the files to him.
He took them, flipping it open and looking through it.
“Thanks,” he sighed. “I was hoping to stay away from work for the next couple days, but I had a hunch and I was curious.”
I raised my brow, wondering if he’d expand on it.
Which he did in the next second.
“David’s girlfriend seemed really jittery when I ran into them at the diner, and there was something she said about the break in that made me wonder. So I had my secretary run her name in the database for me. Thanks for bringing them, by the way. I needed to help Blake with the lobsters,” he said, laying the first file out on the table before he scanned it.
It sure looked like he was doing a lot of ‘helping.’
Not that I would get into that. Not with the Chief of Police, anyway.
The man was my boss, after all. I wasn’t stupid.
“And what’d she say that had you questioning her?” I asked, taking the bait he was handing me.
He shrugged. “She was so adamant that she ‘didn’t do it’ that I started to not trust her word. So I had her and the friend, the one that was her alibi, checked out.”
“And?” I asked.
He shook his head. “Nothing. Neither can be confirmed. It could be possible that they were with each other, but it could also be possible that they weren’t, and that the friend is just covering for her.”
I nodded. “What else is there?”
“Aleo’s file has a few minor incidences. Three speeding tickets. A restraining order. That’s it,” he said, slamming the file closed and moving on to the friends.
“And the alibi?” I asked.
He flipped it open.
“Ronaldo Aleo. The ex,” he said. “Couple of misdemeanors. Nothing else, though.”
“Why would the two exes be hanging out together?” I asked, truly interested in knowing the answer.
I didn’t know a single couple that’d divorced that was friendly with the other.
He shook his head. “They were discussing child support or something to that effect. He was over at her house, and that’s all I got from them.”
I nodded, but before I could ask any more questions, a shrill scream pierced the air that had both of us running into the kitchen.
Chapter 8
Friendship is like pissing your pants. Everyone can see it, but only you can feel its warmth. I want someone to be the piss in my pants.
-Blake’s secret thoughts
Foster
We found Blake standing on the counter with a pair of grill tongs in her pot-holder-covered hands, and a lobster hanging from the very tips.
The lobster’s front pincher was stuck in one of the grooves of the tong.
Blake had the lobster suspended over the large pot of boiling water, and she was crying.
“It won’t come off!” Blake cried, shaking the tongs.
The scene was so unreal that there was only one thing I could do.
Laugh.
A laugh that I desperately needed.
I limped over there after I finally managed to catch my breath, and easily took the lobster off the hook and put him out of his misery.
That’s when the screaming started.
“Oh, my God!” She cried, huge crocodile tears pouring out of her eyes. “Are you fucking kidding me? They scream?”
The Chief was in the corner, holding his stomach as he tried in vain to get his laughter under control.
“Where are the rest of them?” I asked.
She pointed to the floor.
“Where?” I asked again.
“Under the Tupperware,” she said, gesturing to the plastic bowls all over the floor.
I’d originally thought that they were from her mad dash on the counter. Now I knew different.
Bending down, I flipped the bowl over to find one confused looking lobster.
Picking him up, and those of his brethren, I dropped them all into the boiling water, and covered the pot.
“Now what?” I asked.
Her eyes, though, were focused on the pot as the lobsters all thrashed around wildly as they were boiled alive.
“That would be such a horrible way to go. I don’t think I can eat them. Not ever again,” she whispered brokenly.
I shrugged and turned my face, which put me into the perfect place.
Staring at her way to short shorts. Shorts that I only had to tilt my head just right and I could tell she was wearing something purple. Shorts that were God’s gift to man.
“I’m pretty sure they don’t feel anything,” I said, backing away, knowing if I didn’t get out of there, and quick, I’d be sneaking my fingers up the miniscule pant leg and running my fingers through the lips of her sex. Sinking my thick fingers deep inside of her.
I stumbled, drawing Blake’s attention from my face, down to my exposed legs.
Her eyes widened when she finally saw my lack of leg.
Saw the black graphite prosthesis that was so blatantly obvious that I couldn’t help but cringe when people stared.
All thoughts of fucking her went out the goddamned window.
Who the fuck knew if I could even fuck normally anymore?