Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 79599 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 398(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79599 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 398(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
How many pieces of myself do I need to lose?
“Hey, Sophie,” Detective Andrews says, stepping forward and carefully sitting on the edge of my bed. “What have you got?”
With a sigh, I let it all out. “Christian Baxter was behind the deaths of Marco Cincinnati, Phillip McDonald, and Andrew Taylor. All his major competitors.”
“That’s a big claim,” he tells me. “All their deaths were officially ruled as either natural causes or substance abuse. You’ve got evidence to back this up?”
“Bits and pieces,” I tell him. “I might have broken into his office and found contracts hidden in the locked portion of his desk. There are five leading construction companies in the city. Baxter Corporation and four others, and I have proof that Christian anonymously purchased shares in each of the four remaining companies, each contract with hidden clauses that in the case of the death of the founder or owner, the shares will go to him. Now all of a sudden three of these CEOs are dead, leaving Christian the major shareholder in each of their companies, giving him power to control the competition. Tell me that’s not motive.”
Detective Andrews looks surprised, and his brows shoot right up into his hairline. “Wow,” he murmurs. “That’s good, but it doesn’t actually pin him to the crime.”
“I know. I have his secretary’s planner as well, which puts him in the city on each occasion with no alibi.”
“Ahh, see that I can work with,” he says.
I give him a curt nod and tell him exactly where he can find the information in my home. He thanks me as he gets up off the bed and Tank hands him the alarm code and keys to our home, trusting him enough to go in and get the information for himself.
He’s just making his way out the door when I call out for him. “Andrews.”
He turns at my voice with a raised questioning brow. “I want him to go down for all of this,” I say, indicating down my body. “He took my son from me, and if you don’t pull through, I’ll do it myself and I don’t care who has to go down in the process.”
“You know it’s not that easy,” he reminds me. “Do you have sufficient evidence?”
I look at Tank. “There’s the surveillance, right?”
He shakes his head ever so slightly. “It was wiped,” he tells me.
“What about the backup? Doesn’t the company we use keep the footage for thirty days?” I ask as I remember a specific dirty joke I’d made when we first got it put in. We had it installed because of Tank’s crazy fans. Who would have ever thought that this would be the reason it was used.
“It’s possible. I’ll give them a call,” he says.
At that, he nods toward Detective Andrews who makes his way out of the room, leaving me feeling completely empty. First, my son is taken from me, then my husband hates me, and now my job is gone, too.
I know I have Dani, Miller, and my family, but even with Tank in this very room, I have never felt more alone in my life.
Tank clears his throat to gain my attention. “I’m going to go organize home care,” he tells me, hardly managing to meet my eyes.
“Okay,” I murmur as he walks toward the door.
Tank stops and looks back at me, a tightening in his eye. “I made captain, by the way,” he says with a sadness underlying his voice. With that, he walks through the door and leaves me with nothing but the reminders of everything I’ve lost.
Fuck. I really am the most selfish bitch around.
Chapter 11
TANK
Tank
Sophie has been home for a week, and to say things have changed is an understatement. She’s nothing but a shell of the woman she used to be. She doesn’t eat, she doesn’t sleep, and she hasn’t said a single fucking word. She just lays in our bed looking at the wall as Gretchen, the home care nurse, fusses around her.
I’ve walked in a few times to catch her crying as she cradles her empty stomach, grieving the loss of our once growing son. The sight tears me apart each time, but there isn’t a lot I can do about it. The anger boiling inside me has kept me away from her. I don’t trust myself not to lose my shit, and I know that’s the last thing she needs from me.
She hasn’t come out and said it, but I know she thinks I blame her. I’m not going to lie, I’m furious that she decided to take on this case during her pregnancy, especially after I asked her not to. She should have been home, preparing to be a mother, not chasing down criminals. But asking her to stop is like asking her not to be herself. It was selfish for me to ask her to change in the first place, and I should have known she would say no. I just can’t stop thinking about the what-ifs.