Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 84250 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 421(@200wpm)___ 337(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84250 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 421(@200wpm)___ 337(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
He doesn't seem in any hurry to escape either.
It's mere minutes before I hear knocking on my front door, and I smile at Larkin who is playing with her troll dolls in front of the television on my way to answer the door.
"Ma'am," Chandler says when I pull the door open.
"If you'll follow me," I tell him, waiting patiently as Chandler greets Larkin before following me through the house.
I'm honestly surprised to see Walker still in my backyard. I fight the grin on my face when he has the audacity to look disappointed when Chandler pulls the door open and steps outside.
"The cops?" Walker asks, sounding disappointed. "Really, Claire?"
"Is this a domestic issue?"
I glare at Chandler. "It is not. He's creeping around in my backyard and trying to look in my house. I want him arrested."
"Well, hold on," Chandler says, holding his hands out and taking a step back. "Let's not do anything hasty here."
"Hasty?" I snap, annoyed.
I know that there's very little chance that Walker would hurt me. I perfected my ability to read people long ago, and the man is honestly a squishy cinnamon roll. But even knowing that, it's not okay for him to be back here. What if Larkin saw him and it scared her?
"Is that the stance of the Lindell Police Department when they encounter a stranger lurking around a woman's backyard?"
"Wait," Chandler says, as if he's growing more and more stressed out.
"I'm hardly a stranger," Walker mutters.
"So this is a domestic situation?"
I huff and cross my arms over my chest. "It most certainly is not. I want him arrested."
"For what?" both men ask at the same time.
"For trespassing."
"I'm here because Adalynn Tate sent me to replace the battery in that toy," Walker says, pointing to the disabled ride-on.
Guilt swims inside of me, but I've had enough of backing down from the people in this town.
"That's not how trespassing works," Chandlers says. "First a warning has to be administered. Do you have a restraining order against him?"
The man pulls out a notebook and flips through the pages.
"I don't have a note of one being on file."
"She doesn't have one," Walker assures the other man.
"I want one."
Both men stare at me.
"I'm sure this has all the elements to prove a stalking case," I add. "I want him arrested."
"Claire," Walker snaps.
"I don't think—"
"It would be up to a grand jury to decide elements of a crime," I interrupt Chandler. "Isn't that right?"
"How do you even know this stuff?" Walker asks, but I ignore him.
It isn't his business the limited details I remember from the criminal justice classes I took in high school when I thought I wanted to be a cop.
"I need to call Cash," Chandler says, pulling out his cell phone.
"Put it on speaker," I insist, and, surprisingly, in the next breath, the phone rings louder, so everyone standing back here in this tiny yard can hear it.
“Chief?” Chandler says when the call connects.
“What’s wrong, Chandler?” Cash asks.
“I have Walker Conroy in custody.”
Technically that isn't true. The man isn't in handcuffs yet.
“He says Adalynn sent him to Claire Kennedy’s house. Claire called the police when she found him lurking around in her backyard.”
“I wasn’t lurking,” Walker snaps.
“You were trying to steal Larkin’s ride-on car.” It's not exactly the truth, but I'm riled up and more than a little annoyed at this point.
“Hold on,” Cash says, and a minute later I can tell he's speaking to someone else. “Did you send Walker over to Claire’s to have him steal a ride-on car?”
I know my lies are going to come to light, but I'll die on this hill. I've already decided as much.
“He’s there to put a new battery in it,” Adalynn says on the other end of the line. “Did he do it right now? He wasn’t supposed to be there until after nine.”
“I wasn’t going to come to her house after dark,” Walker argues. “That’s how you get shot.”
I don't open my mouth to tell him that I don't have a gun in the house. Let him believe what he wants.
“Do you still want to press charges?” Chandler asks, looking in my direction.
“If that’s what it takes to get the people in this town to stop getting in my business."
“Jesus Christ,” Cash mutters. “Give me ten minutes. I’m coming.”
The call ends with a click of silence.
"I'm here to change the battery," Walker repeats.
"Okay," I say, waving my hand at the toy I'm now regretting having even splurged on in the first place. "Change it."
Walker growls when he presses his palm to his jeans.
"It's in the truck."
"Sure it is."
"He can prove it by letting him go to his truck," Chandler says.
"Is that protocol?" I challenge. "To let the suspect walk away from the scene of a crime?"
Chandler runs his hands over his head, torn between being a good cop and a man who probably knows Walker well enough to know he isn't here because he means any harm.