Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 74501 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 373(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74501 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 373(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
But when he got it to his mouth, he didn’t taste it.
Because new thoughts were forming in his head.
Including the fact that the cops had come to the shelter, looking for Carlyle.
Did they do that just to share the case had gone cold, apologize they had to get on with other shit, pat him on the back and tell him to keep his chin up and maybe get his ass home?
No.
They wanted to go over what he saw.
And now Dutch wanted to know what he saw.
But the bottom line was, they all needed to know what he saw.
Because he fucking saw something.
But he was keeping it to himself, and Dutch got that.
Fuck him, he got it.
But as smart as Carlyle was, this was not his job. He was too young, and he didn’t have the skills to see it through.
Making matters worse, if this was tied up with other shit, and that woman knew that Carlyle saw what he saw, the kid was flat-out in danger.
Which could be another reason why he refused to go home.
He was keeping his mother and sister safe.
Fuck.
“You got something for us?” Eddie asked.
Dutch had food in his mouth.
He chewed, swallowed, felt Georgie’s continued hyper-vigilance on him, but he locked eyes with Eddie.
“Yeah, I do. But I got work to do on it so can you give me a few days? Then I’m handing it over.”
“Chaos got your back?” Eddie asked.
“Nightingale does,” Dutch answered.
Eddie nodded. That worked for him.
Dutch looked to Hank.
Hank was eating like nothing was weird. It worked for him too.
Dutch understood this.
Lee Nightingale, who owned Nightingale Investigations, was Eddie’s best friend, Hank’s brother, and they both knew Lee, nor his team would leave Dutch blowing in the breeze.
They finished their meals shooting the shit.
At the end, there was a brief but annoying discussion about who was going to pay that Georgie did not participate in, but she won it by walking up to the register and paying herself. Something which Dutch knew was going to lead to another discussion about how she was never going to do that again.
Hank urged Dutch to take Georgie to meet Tex.
Georgie looked intrigued.
They said goodbye on the sidewalk.
And Georgie called it when they were in his truck on the way back to her place.
“Carlyle saw something.”
“Yup.”
“We have to find Carlyle.”
“Yup.”
“Shit,” she whispered.
Dutch drew a sharp breath into his nose.
Then he repeated, “Yup.”
They settled into unhappy silence.
Dutch broke it.
“You ever pay the bill like that again, I’m spanking your ass.”
She said nothing.
Until she did.
And it was…
“Cute.”
Chapter Six
Butch and Sundance
Dutch
Dutch lay on his back on his couch with a book in his hand and a cat on his chest.
The only reason he was there and not out on the streets looking for Carlyle was because they’d spent the afternoon searching for Carlyle.
They’d checked everywhere they’d known to check, and being on the kids beat, Georgie knew even more spots than Dutch did.
They’d also put bugs in as many ears as they could talk into, including Vance Crowe.
And Georgie had phoned her two street kids-not-kids to ask them to keep on the lookout and do that with a purpose.
These dudes called themselves “Banga” and “Kraken,” and just that made Dutch’s stomach tighten at the thought she was associating with whatever lunatics these guys were.
Because seriously…
Kraken?
He listened over her speakerphone as they assured her they were on it.
And then it started to get late, and Georgie had pitched a fit about Dutch continuing to look while she was on her date-not-date because, “Who’s going to keep Murtagh company?”
He was in love with her cat, but he wanted to find Carlyle more.
Georgie impressed upon him he couldn’t run himself ragged or they’d never find Carlyle.
She then told him they had to let the folks they’d roped in to help have time to do something about it, adding something about a watched kettle never boiling.
She ended all this on what really did it.
That if Murtagh did not have time to get used to his house before she got there, no way she could spend the night with him, because if she brought Murtagh over, he would be disoriented in a new space and she wouldn’t be able to concentrate on Dutch.
Obviously, on that, he gave in.
It was when Dutch was hanging at her pad while she got ready for her date-not-date, already having taken all of Murtagh’s shit and Georgie’s overnight bag down to his truck, that things got iffy.
Because she came out looking shit-hot in a little black dress that was way off the shoulder, had long bell sleeves, the hem hit her just above the knees, it was skintight, and the capper was the pair of sexy black stiletto sandals on her feet.
He had, he thought, justifiably lost his mind and told her to go change.
She had, he thought, totally insanely lost hers and told him he couldn’t tell her to change her clothes or tell her to do, say, anything.