Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 90685 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90685 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
They’ve accepted me for who I am, but I’m still not what they expected. And I can’t help noticing they treat my brother differently than me.
Rafe’s the golden boy. He went to college.
I joined the police force right out of high school and then the DEA a few years later. I’m out on the streets, to protect and serve. And my brother is on a construction site putting his business degree to good storage use in Mamá and Papá’s basement. But he’s the apple of their eye.
I’m not bitter. Not bitter at all.
Trav comes back into the room, and I can tell by the look on his face the news isn’t good.
“What happened?”
“It’s your 9-1-1 call.” Trav moves over to the L-shaped desk in the corner where there are two monitors plus a laptop and takes a seat.
“What about it?”
“Saint said he’s sending it through now.” The screens come to life as he boots up his computer.
And immediately, the file pops up on the screen. Trav hits Play.
“We have a GSW to the abdomen. He’s bleeding out fast.” Hearing my own voice is always weird, but the way it comes out this time makes me realize I might not have been as in control of that situation as I thought. I was barely holding on, but I thought I had some calm, rational thoughts. Apparently not. My words are quick between my heavy breathing and swearing.
There are moments the operator asks me what’s happening, but I’m too distracted to answer. The one time I do, I must not have heard her right.
“What happened, Agent Rodriguez? Who shot—”
“I shot him.”
I blanch, and Trav hits Stop.
“Sounds to me like you admitted to shooting the dead guy.”
“What? No. I shot the other one. The one who killed that guy.”
“That’s … not what it sounds like.”
I stumble away from him. “You don’t believe me.”
“I didn’t say that. I said that’s not what it sounds like.”
I rub my temples. “Play it again. All the way through. Walker turns up at one point, and I tell him what happened.”
Trav starts it from the beginning, when I notice something else the second time around.
“There are no other gunshots in the background.”
“And?”
“And, after I hit 9-1-1, there was a shootout between the perp and me. Why isn’t any of that in there? Where’d your guy get this?”
“Uh …” Trav doesn’t answer. “He didn’t hack into the 9-1-1 database to retrieve it, if that’s what you’re asking.”
Then the recording stops before Walker even shows up.
“It was altered,” I say. “While you were driving me out to the middle of nowhere in the desert, Walker’s been covering his tracks. And now … now it looks like I killed that kid.”
Trav gets his phone out and hits a number. They must pick up immediately because he says, “How are you coming along with CCTV?”
The person on the other end answers, but I can’t hear it other than the low murmur of a voice.
“Get it to me ASAP.” He ends the call and rubs his chin in thought. “What does it say about the government when Saint was able to get a 9-1-1 call easier than CCTV?”
“If Walker is covering his tracks, he would’ve done the footage already too. What’s the plan now?”
“We gather as much intel as we can on Ken Walker.”
“That’s it? That phone call is fucking incriminating, and all you’re going to do is gather intel?”
“What do you want me to do? Get Saint to delete the 9-1-1 call?”
I almost let out a big fat “yes” when I stop myself. Morally, I can’t ask someone to do that for me. Even though the recording is corrupt and not a depiction of what really happened. “I want … I just want Walker to go down.”
Trav leans back, crossing his legs at the ankle, and rests his beefy hands in his lap. “What do you propose we do? Raid his house and take him out?”
“That’s dramatic.”
“Hey, it’s an option, but I figured you’d want to do this the proper way.”
I eye him, unsure if he’s being serious or not.
“Not to mention, killing people is wrong. Obviously.” He plays with the neck of his tight black tee. “And if you take out a guy like Walker, that’ll only bring out all his allies. Mass murder isn’t my thing.”
Okay, now I know he’s joking. I think. His eyes glimmer, so I can’t be sure.
“I don’t want you to kill him. I want to know why. And who was the kid he was with? How deep does it go? Are my teammates involved? I want answers.”
“And to do that, we need to look into him and his life, which means …”
“Gathering intel,” I say in a dejected tone.
“Right.” Trav turns back to his computer. “I’ll pull up anything my guys have dug up so far. Go grab a chair.”