Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 84871 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 424(@200wpm)___ 339(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84871 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 424(@200wpm)___ 339(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
Bishop’s phone that’s sitting on the desk lights up. Because I’m nosy, I take a peek. It’s a text message.
Mayor: You can’t change the price, Andre. Not how this works.
An oily feeling slicks over my skin. What price? How does Bishop even know the mayor? His phone lights up again with another text. Of course I read that one as well.
Mayor: Just make it go away like you promised. We can renegotiate later. This is too important to stall on.
“Can I help you?” a deep voice rumbles from behind me.
I slam Trevor’s file closed and wheel around to face Bishop. He cocks his head to the side, studying me as though he can see inside my mind. The penetrating look causes me to shiver.
“Just looking for this.” I wave the folder at him. “Since no one is looking for my nephew anymore or looking into who killed my sister’s boyfriend, I thought I’d tackle this to see if I could find out anything new.”
Bishop glances at Tanaka’s office and then flashes me a goofy grin. “You’re in luck. Me and Montgomery were about to follow up on a lead.” He gestures at Tanaka’s office. “He’s going to be there a while, I imagine, and this is time-sensitive. Want to ride with me and ask your questions?”
A lead on Trevor?
My heart leaps at the prospect.
“Of course. What’s the lead?”
He snags his phone and keys off his desk. “I’ll fill you in on the way. Let’s go.”
Aisha, who’s still on the phone, frowns when I walk by with Bishop. I mouth the word “lead” and drop the file on her desk. Before she can tell me this could get my ass fired, because it could, I follow after Bishop to his SUV.
“So,” I ask once I’m buckled in and we’re on the road, “what’s the lead?”
“A guy called in. Said he thinks Trevor’s been staying with some bad people. I told the guy we’d meet up so I could ask more questions.”
A guy. Bad people. Vague much?
I drill him for more answers, but he cleverly diverts the conversation back to work and fills me in on what I’ve missed. I’m starting to get a really gross feeling about this. Alarm bells are ringing inside my head. As soon as we pull down the road where the bikers’ place is, all the hairs on my arms stand on end.
This doesn’t feel safe.
Thank God I have my service weapon on me.
That didn’t help last time when you got shot, dumbass.
“Across the street,” Bishop says, pointing to a dilapidated house. “He says he sees people coming in and out all the time, but there’s this one kid who’s young and doesn’t seem like he belongs with them.” He pulls up in front of the old house. “If you want to stay in the car, that’s fine. You won’t hurt my feelings. I know it might be triggering to be back here.”
Fuck off, asshole.
As if I’ll give up this opportunity to get information on Trevor. It’s not like I can rely on Bishop or Montgomery to do their jobs. We’d have found him already if they actually worked every now and again.
I climb out of the vehicle and follow after Bishop as he goes to the front door. He bangs on the door and holds his badge out. The door cracks open and a greasy-looking guy peeks out.
“Detective Bishop,” Bishop says, voice deep and commanding. “You called about a kid who looked out of place?”
The man nods and points past us to the barn on the property behind the bikers’ house. “Yeah. He was comin’ and goin’ pretty frequently until a few weeks ago. Then he went in that barn and hasn’t come out. Gotta bad feelin’ about it.”
Bile surges up my throat and it takes everything in me not to puke. If he went into the barn and never came back out, does that mean they killed him? Oh God.
I’m still staring at the barn when a skinny man is shoved out the side door. He stumbles and falls face first into the grass.
What if it’s him?
I take off running, ignoring Bishop’s barked order to wait for him to call for backup. All that matters is getting to Trevor. If it’s not Trevor, there’s a kid out there who needs help. My back immediately starts to ache from the exertion, but adrenaline keeps me from slowing. I run through the yard where a couple of months ago I was shot and into the field. The skinny man climbs to his feet and starts waving at me.
It’s him.
As I draw in, I recognize his build and shaggy hair. He’s much skinnier than when I last saw him and bruises mar every inch of exposed flesh. Anger explodes inside me. These motherfuckers hurt my nephew.
Trevor is shaking his head and rasping out words I can’t seem to make out. I nearly tackle him when I reach him.