Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 67000 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 335(@200wpm)___ 268(@250wpm)___ 223(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67000 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 335(@200wpm)___ 268(@250wpm)___ 223(@300wpm)
“Crissa sounds toxic.”
“Crissa is toxic.”
We all turned as one toward the door of the house and there, standing as if he hadn’t just walked into a bashing of his wife, was my best friend.
I got up and walked his way.
“Tobin!” I crowed, throwing my arms around him in a manly best friend hug.
Tobin chuckled, returning the hug.
Seconds later he stepped back and narrowed his eyes at my foot. “You look like you can walk again.”
I winced. “I can walk again.”
“It was touch or go there for a minute,” Mom said as she walked up to Tobin and gave him a hug. “When he tore his Achilles tendon during that foot chase, and I watched him go down on live TV, I thought he’d been shot. It broke my mother heart, and it still hasn’t recovered.”
I winced.
Six months ago, I’d been in a foot chase from hell. Everything that could go wrong, did go wrong.
It’d started out with the man I’d pulled over taking off, simultaneously running over my foot in the process. It’d ended with me and him in a foot chase across a pasture that was so goddamn bumpy I’d mis-stepped and twisted wrong, causing my Achilles tendon to snap like a matchstick.
Luckily, Garrett and his canine officer, Boss, had just arrived on scene.
Boss took the perp down within seconds, and I lay in the middle of a muddy field and cried like a damn baby.
“What are you doing here?” Dad asked as he got a hug of his own.
The smile slid off of Tobin’s face.
“I’m here because we have reason to believe that a serial killer has set up shop here, targeting women with brown hair and blue eyes.”
The immediate mental image of Ellodie popped up in my head.
“And funny enough, the woman you were all over the news with yesterday is one of my targets.”
God. Dammit.
One minute you’re young and free and the next minute you’re super excited about the grocery pickup order you just placed having no substitutions or out of stock items.
—Ellodie to her mom
ELLODIE
“Ellodie!” a male voice, sounding impatient and put out, called out to me from the other side of the curtain.
I came out of the gang banger’s room, my heart racing, nervous that I’d been caught.
“Follow me, Ellodie.”
I nearly groaned.
The last thing I wanted to do was follow the doctor, seeing as I had illegal substances in my pocket that needed to be disposed of, but his insistence that I follow him had my feet reluctantly dragging myself in his direction.
We arrived in the young mom’s room who’d been plaguing my thoughts all morning.
She’d come in with a raging infection in her breast from mastitis, and I knew that she’d waited so long because she couldn’t afford to pay.
Yet, she was so sick and lethargic this morning that when an ambulance had been called on her behalf, she’d had no other alternative but to follow their orders because she couldn’t argue.
She’d been too out of it.
“All right, Ms. Melina,” the doctor said as he swept into the room. “The results are in. You have a very bad infection that I’m worried might be antibiotic resistant. So I’m going to prescribe you this medication…”
The doctor went on to explain a few more things, and I listened with half an ear.
“On this medication, you’ll have to pump and dump,” the doctor said with a bored tone.
“But… how will I feed my baby?”
Dr. Peter Brewn shook his head. “Honey, I’m not sure how you’re going to do this. I do know that if you don’t take this medication, you might die. This infection is wicked.”
I liked Dr. Brewn. He was a great doctor to work with.
But sometimes he didn’t see the bigger picture.
Like, it wouldn’t matter if this mother survived if she couldn’t feed her baby.
“But if I can’t feed her my milk…”
“We’ll provide you with some formula. I’ll have Ellodie here run up to the postpartum unit and steal some.” Dr. Brewn grinned.
I would do that for her… after I got rid of the stuff burning its way through my pocket.
“She’ll go do that now,” he said. “And we’ll get you started on this IV medication.”
I took the chance to dash out of the room, running toward the closest bathroom that wasn’t on the unit itself.
The moment I was in the bathroom, I slammed and locked the door.
Once by myself, I immediately grabbed for the drugs in my pocket and started dumping them into the toilet.
I’d taken the drugs from the gang patient’s room when he left to go get an X-ray.
I knew I shouldn’t have done it.
Truthfully, I should’ve called the cops.
But I didn’t because to call the cops for the drugs, I would have to give up the cash, and I wasn’t super excited about doing that.
After it was all dumped, I went to the sink and washed my hands very, very well, then flushed the toilet with my foot.