Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 114820 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 574(@200wpm)___ 459(@250wpm)___ 383(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 114820 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 574(@200wpm)___ 459(@250wpm)___ 383(@300wpm)
Then to Rus. “Sorry.”
“I’m sure Special Agent Lazarus has experience with people who’ve sustained an unexpected loss, Keyleigh,” Lucinda said in a serene, yet affectionate voice. “Take your time.”
“I-I can’t…this is…it’s…this is crazy!” she wailed, then buried her face in a cloud of tissue.
Rus glanced at Lucinda to see her gaze on him.
She tipped her head to the side.
He didn’t know how he knew what she was communicating with that small gesture.
But he knew.
Push.
He gave it a few moments.
Then he went after it.
“Keyleigh,” he began. “It’s important to learn as much as we can as quickly as we can after the event happens. This is a shock, I know, but if you could take a few deep breaths for me and answer a few questions, it would help Brittanie.”
Keyleigh took her face from the tissues, nodded, dragged in a few stuttering breaths, and her eyes slid to Lucinda.
Lucinda held them and sat unmoving, the rock Keyleigh could lean on.
Keyleigh leaned.
She swiped her face, blew her nose and said, “Okay. I wanna help. I wanna help Brittanie.”
Having a window, Rus launched in.
And he learned no, Brittanie wasn’t seeing anyone new, or anyone at all in an official way. Though she was seeing a few men casually, but she didn’t talk about them much. Keyleigh didn’t know their names and got the sense she wasn’t that into them and they weren’t going to last very long.
Yes, she was terrible with money, but not only didn’t Keyleigh know of any other than her usual troubles with overspending, she thought Brittanie was getting better with managing her funds.
Yes, even though it was frowned on, sometimes she hooked up with people she met at the club. These were the men who weren’t going to last too long. It never led to anything but some one-night stands, or short-term hookups, and Keyleigh had no knowledge if anything turned weird or sour.
Unfortunately, yes, some of these men were married. Keyleigh tried to advise her not to mess with married guys, but sometimes Brittanie did stupid stuff Keyleigh didn’t understand.
No, Keyleigh didn’t know anyone who might want to cause her harm, or at least not anyone who would go that far. Brittanie had made some enemies, specifically with female acquaintances whose boyfriends she’d set her sights on. But killing her for that would be extreme.
No, she did not have a close relationship with her mother or brother. Her brother often got into trouble, which Brittanie wanted to avoid, and she avoided her mother outright, and to Keyleigh’s knowledge, she hadn’t seen either of them in some time.
And through sniffles and barely controlled weeping, Keyleigh couldn’t add anything else, but if she remembered something, she’d be happy to contact Rus.
Throughout the questioning, even though her emotion would sometimes get in the way, Rus didn’t sense she was holding anything back. It was clear she loved Brittanie, she was suffering at her loss, and she truly wanted to help find who hurt her.
But more, intermingled with all of this, she’d say how funny Brittanie was. How Brittanie would be the one who would feed your cat when you went on vacation or go to the grocery store if you sprained your ankle. How she loved kids and animals.
And life.
She wanted Rus to have the answers to his questions.
And she wanted Rus to know that Brittanie might be flawed, but she was a good person.
When it was over, Lucinda walked her to the door, hugged her, and Rus was impressed how she could be both aloof and tender in the way she held her girl. She then handed her off to the security woman who’d shown Rus in.
Security Sue was solicitous as she led Keyleigh to the stairs.
But filling her place was a woman in a white chef’s uniform who handed Lucinda a tray.
She took it, the woman closed the door, and Lucinda made her way to Rus.
She set the tray in front of him, and Rus stared down at a gigantic sandwich of perfectly rare, exquisitely shaved slices of beef and what looked like melted provolone on a French roll next to a mess of homemade potato chips and a small bowl of au jus. A tall, narrow glass of ice rested beside a bottle of San Pellegrino, and there was another bowl with slices of lemon and lime.
“Angelina makes a superb prime rib dip,” Lucinda murmured as she moved back behind her desk.
He watched her sit.
“You seem like a meat and potatoes man,” she finished.
“How did you know?” he asked after how she knew he needed food, not about how she knew he was a meat and potatoes man, which he was.
“Are you from the Seattle bureau?” she asked in return.
“No.”
She said no more, but he knew she’d put together he’d gotten a call from wherever he lived and from then to now, finding food hadn’t been his priority.