Total pages in book: 57
Estimated words: 54836 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 274(@200wpm)___ 219(@250wpm)___ 183(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 54836 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 274(@200wpm)___ 219(@250wpm)___ 183(@300wpm)
“Five minutes, bud,” I called, tossing the toy again, then making my way toward my phone.
I figured maybe it was my mom, calling for the weekly rundown of everything that was going on with the family.
Or maybe even Gawen, with some new insight on the case.
But it was Mari’s name on my screen.
There was no accounting for the way my stomach flip-flopped at seeing it there.
Or the way I almost accidentally ended the call when I swiped with anxious fingers to answer it.
“Hello?”
“Wells?” she asked, voice tight and high. Panicked.
“Is everything okay? What’s going on?” I asked.
“I, ah, I think someone is following me,” she said, her voice shaking.
“Following you?” I asked, glancing at the clock. “From work?” I asked, remembering that she didn’t have a set schedule, and sometimes worked late.
“Yes,” she said, sniffling hard.
“Where are you now?” I asked, striding toward the door.
Boss picked up on the change in my mood, taking his toy over to his bed to nibble on it instead.
He’d come a long way from the puppy that gutted each new toy with gusto in the three minutes after being gifted it. Though, inevitably, I would walk in the room one of these days to find little clouds of fluff scattered all around the room, and Boss sitting there looking shocked at the destruction. Like he hadn’t been the one to cause it.
“I’m in my car,” she said. “Driving,” she added.
“Drive to the police station,” I told her, grabbing my keys, and making my way out the door. “I will meet you there.”
“I’m probably being silly,” she said, and I could hear her trying to take slow, deep breaths to calm herself down.
“It’s not silly to be vigilant. Better safe than sorry right now. Go to the police station. I will meet you there,” I told her.
“I can’t ask you—“
“You’re not,” I cut her off. “Or, if you want, I can meet you at your house. We could hang there until you feel better,” I told her as I climbed in my car. “Or you could grab Matilda and come to my place for a while.”
What?
No.
Damnit.
That was exactly what I couldn’t say, couldn’t allow her to do. Not if I wanted to keep my job. And my reputation I’d worked so hard for.
But, I rationalized, my job and reputation weren’t as important as her life.
“Really?” she asked, sounding hopeful.
“Really,” I said, trying to shut down the negative voices in my head.
She needed a place to stay.
I had one.
I would keep my hands to myself.
No one else had to know.
“Okay. But just for a few hours,” she insisted.
“However long,” I countered. “Stay on the phone with me. I will be at your house in… five minutes,” I said, taking a quick turn to head in that direction.
“I think you’ll get there first,” she said, voice slowing to a more normal cadence as she calmed down. “Really, I think I’m just being paranoid.”
“Paranoid is good,” I said. Adding silently It will keep you alive.
I couldn’t tell her what Gawen had told me.
About how this bastard likely wasn’t done with her.
And how he would do even worse things to her than he’d done to the other victims.
I knew that maybe I was supposed to tell her that kind of thing. But what good would it do? She couldn’t leave. All it would accomplish was making her even more terrified of something she had no control over.
“I guess,” she agreed. “I mean, that’s kind of the whole point of the true crime obsession, isn’t it?” she asked, seeming to talk to herself. “To be aware and prepared. To know who to look sideways at.”
“Exactly,” I agreed.
I was sure that Gawen would have some thoughts about it not being great for women’s mental health to have this obsession. But even he had to admit that working this job had changed him. The cop in him would make sure he never sat in a restaurant with his back to the door. And we always have a weapon on us now, even when off-duty.
Shit like that.
Being close to crime changes you. And how you act.
Consuming crime changes you and how you act too.
For the women like Mari, whose obsession with it likely helped save them in a bad situation, how could anyone think it isn’t good to be aware that this shit was going on?
“Alright. I’m here. And Matilda is aware,” I added, smiling as I heard her bark through the house and the rolled-up windows of my cruiser.
“She hates anyone in the driveway,” Mari told me. “She’s a good girl. Okay. I’m coming down the street,” she said. “Hey,” she said, giving me a sheepish smile as she pulled in beside me in the driveway.
“Hey.”
God, she looked good.
Even in her work uniform which consisted of khaki pants and a black scrub-type shirt and black sneakers.