Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 76609 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76609 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
“No,” Memphis snapped. “You’ll do it today, or I’ll go do it myself when you get home.”
Downy growled in frustration, but then leaned forward as the camera finally made it to the room where we thought the family was being held.
The only thing we had to go on was one single phone call to 9-1-1 four hours earlier saying that their ‘father’ was holding them hostage and they couldn’t leave.
“Gotta go,” Downy said. “I’m busy.”
He hung up on Memphis’ growl of frustration.
“You know you’re going to have to do that, right?” I asked.
“Yes,” he sighed. “You live across the street from her, you should do it.”
My eyebrows rose.
“She’s right, you know,” I said. “You owe it to her.”
“How do you figure?” He asked, leaning forward at the same time I did.
“She watched your kids for four hours and used the last of the gas in her car to keep them warm. And your wife took her blankets when she has no heat. How do you not see that you owe her?” I asked somewhat irritated in his flippant behavior.
“Four hostages,” Luke, the SWAT leader on scene, and all around good guy, said. “He doesn’t have any guns on him.”
“I don’t even see any in the room,” Nico, another member of the SWAT team, offered.
“Let’s do this.”
Then we went to rescue the hostages, who were being held at dick point. And by dick point, I meant his dick was out, and he was refusing to let them go without a fight.
***
I was just getting home, having being held over due to a report I had to write and fax in, since I wouldn’t be working for the next few days.
I’d requested the days off so I could spend some time with my daughter before she went back to school after Christmas break, but it was very clear by the end of the day when Attie still hadn’t answered my messages or returned my phone calls that I wouldn’t be getting any father/daughter time for the next few days like I’d planned.
I slipped and slid my way home, annoyed that I hadn’t gotten around to putting new tires on my truck like I’d intended to this week.
Now I could barely get any purchase, and my four-wheel drive was practically useless seeing as the treads on my tires were nearly nonexistent.
I felt the first smile I’d cracked in over six hours moving across my face when I pulled into my driveway and saw Downy pulling to the curb.
His truck was loaded down with wood, nearly a whole cord would be my guess.
He dropped out of his truck gingerly, and then a dark missile of fur darted out right behind him.
“I told you to stay in the truck!” Downy boomed as he yelled at his dog, Mocha.
Mocha didn’t spare him a glance as she ran to the front steps, then barked loudly at the door until Aspen finally opened it for her.
Mocha darted in, and Aspen immediately closed the door behind her.
“Your sister likes your dog more than she likes you,” I observed dryly as I came around the back of my truck.
Downy flipped me off.
“Come help me with this shit,” he ordered. “My power just went out, and I don’t want to leave them there by themselves for long.”
I didn’t mention the fact that he’d had no problem leaving the kids with his sister in exactly the same conditions, but I had a feeling it had more to do with his wife being cold that was the reason for his urgency.
We worked for nearly twenty minutes in silence to get the wood to the side of the house, and the last fifty pieces or so went right outside Aspen’s backdoor.
Then, without another word, he walked up the front walk, and straight inside her house, leaving the door open as he went.
“Aspen!” Downy called from inside the house.
I followed, almost out of curiosity rather than need.
I followed the sound of growling to the kitchen where I saw Downy facing off with his dog.
“Sit,” Downy ordered.
The dog backed up, protecting the muffin in her mouth.
“Drop it,” he said fiercely.
Mocha stared at him, then promptly tossed it up in the air, caught it, and swallowed it nearly whole.
“You shithead,” Downy said. “How’d she even get that?”
“She brought it in with her. I tried to get her to let me have it, but as soon as I got the packaging off it she ate it,” Aspen said.
I couldn’t listen to them bitching anymore, though. Not with Aspen’s legs only inches away from the open oven door.
“Can you please close that,” I said. “You’re going to burn yourself.”
Then, almost as if in a movie, she whipped around.
The bottom of her sweater whirled out behind her, and I swear I watched as the damn thing caught fire as the end of it grazed over the burners on top of the stove.