Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 77422 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 387(@200wpm)___ 310(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77422 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 387(@200wpm)___ 310(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
“I need y’all to get in the truck,” I called to the room. “I need to go check on July.”
Drew and Tai stopped, facing me, while the other three turned as well.
“Now,” I said. “Or I’m going by myself.”
“What’s wrong with her?” Bowe asked. “Why not just send Able over there to see what’s up?”
I was shaking my head as he finished the sentence, then I explained.
“She was supposed to watch Nathan today,” I informed him. “She wouldn’t forget that.”
“Who are we going to see?” Naomi asked cheerily from behind me.
I gritted my teeth and ignored her as I said, “Let’s go!”
They all came, following behind me as I walked down the hallway, through the living room, past the kitchen, and out the door to the bay where the engine and ambulance were kept.
Today was my shift in the ambulance, so I got into the driver’s side and started it up as I waited for the rest of them to file out.
It didn’t take but another five minutes before they were all in the engine, except for Bowe and Naomi, who got into the ambulance with me.
“Ready, Freddy,” Naomi patted her thighs enthusiastically.
I didn’t bother to give her my usual smile at her predictable comment.
She said that every time we got into the ambulance, and for some reason it wasn’t nearly as cute as I usually thought it was.
“What’s going on with her?” Bowe asked me as he buckled his seatbelt.
“No clue,” I said. “Her brother called to ask me to go check on her.”
“I thought her brother hated you,” Bowe’s brows furrowed. “Why would he call you?”
“He’s at work,” I explained. “And he knows I’ll do it.”
Bowe snorted, and Naomi wisely chose to not speak.
Comprehension came into Bowe’s eyes.
All the boys knew about July, as well as her devotion to her nephew.
Although July and I had only lasted a short six months, they all were well acquainted with the two of them. You didn’t just forget the woman and the kid you saw at every barbecue and party that you attended once a week for six months.
“Where are you going?” Bowe asked as I turned onto Fourth Street. “I thought she lived off of the Interstate?”
I shook my head in the negative.
“She moved,” I growled.
The closer we got to The Hills, the more upset I got.
The Hills was the shittiest apartment complex in about fifty square miles. When you think of a slum, this was definitely it. Not one single person would call the cops if someone was shot outside their door in that complex.
But just because they wouldn’t look out for someone else didn’t mean they didn’t look out for themselves.
We ran this apartment complex at least three times a shift.
When we pulled into the ratty parking lot that had potholes all over it, and kids running everywhere, no one blinked an eye.
“Did he tell you a number?” Bowe asked as we pulled into the lot four minutes later.
I shook my head.
“No,” I said. “But that’s her truck.”
“My guess is it’s the one with the bunny on the balcony door,” Bowe suggested as I pulled in behind July’s pea green 1990 Ford F-150.
“You’d probably be right,” I said, opening my door and getting out.
Looking up at the apartment, I winced when I saw the fading blue paint cracking and falling off the side of the building.
The apartments were gross, and so broken down and trashy that I wondered how anyone could live in such conditions.
Paint was peeling, siding was falling off in places, and the front door that led into the shared hallway wasn’t even latched. Mainly because someone had forced their way in and management hadn’t deemed it necessary to replace it yet.
Once I’d rounded the ambulance, I walked to the parking spot where her truck was parked, and read the sign.
It read ‘Parking for 2D only.’
Using deductive reasoning, I assumed that was the apartment she was in, and took the stairs two at a time.
Nobody opened their doors, which was unusual.
Normally a fire truck pulled into the parking lot, every one of the bastards had their noses poked out of their doors.
I made it to the end of the hallway, tried the door, and cursed.
Locked.
With no answer, I started knocking.
With still no answer, I walked back outside and tried to see into the apartment.
She had blinds, though, effectively shutting out the outside world.
After trying to decide what to do that didn’t include me breaking down her door, I finally rounded the building and looked up at the balcony with the French doors leading inside.
The one with the stupid bunny decal on the door.
The balcony was shit.
We’d been getting on to the manager of the complex for years about the state of them, but they’d only do the bare minimum just to pass the inspection until the next hit came, then they’d do another Band-Aid repair job.