Total pages in book: 138
Estimated words: 138981 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 695(@200wpm)___ 556(@250wpm)___ 463(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 138981 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 695(@200wpm)___ 556(@250wpm)___ 463(@300wpm)
As we head out to that little blue house at the edge of town, I’m expecting to pull up on this frazzled kitten collapsed in a mess of tears, flipping her fancy latte and throwing a fit, demanding to speak to—who knows?
The mayor, which we don’t have when it’s just a town council of selectmen.
The manager?
Some manager. Any manager.
Whatever authority figure she can complain to about how we could possibly let this catastrophe happen to her. As if we’re not just as shell-shocked as she is.
I’m not trying to be a dick. I’ve just got a feeling this stranger could make a nasty situation worse.
That’s what I’m assuming till the second we pull up and spot her.
This eerily calm, motionless figure waiting for us on the front porch. Not what I expected.
My first impression is that she’s kind of an old soul.
Young, for sure. Early to mid-twenties, maybe.
She’s tiny.
So damn small I could pick her up with one hand.
Leggy as hell with thick hips and a slender waist, all of her looking real casual in a dark-blue tank top and jeans.
Lightly tanned skin. From the thin white tan lines on her shoulders, it looks pretty natural, not sprayed-on or burned into her by tanning beds.
Her face starts with a tumble of black hair cascading over her shoulders and back. High cheekbones render her expressionless, stone-cold, her full lips set in an unrevealing line of horror.
Then there’s the tattoo.
That stylized dragon tattoo coiling over her shoulder and down her arm, its black ink crisp and fluid, hinting there’s a little something more to her behind that hard-set mask.
Shit.
She doesn’t look like the sort of girl who’d pack up her big-city life and come down here to teach a bunch of munchkins in a town that doesn’t know her from Adam.
Which makes it extra weird that the day she shows up, so does a body.
The girl lifts her head as I park my patrol car.
Her eyes are just faint shimmers in the shadows under the porch, watching us warily.
“Think she’s gonna be a problem? Looks skittish as hell.” In the passenger seat, Bowden clucks his tongue.
“We should talk to her before we make any kind of assessments, Chief.” I check my sidearm at my hip, make sure the safety’s locked, then toss my head. “Come on.”
We step out of the car.
Our new arrival instantly goes tense, but holds her ground.
The chief is half-right.
I haven’t spoken one word to her, yet the girl makes me think of an alley cat, guarded and feral but ever ready to defend her territory. I take it slow as I push the gate open and walk up with Bowden behind me.
Look, I’m no stranger to women turning to stone around me.
I’m a big guy. To some folks, that means safety.
To others, that just makes me a bigger threat.
So I stop at a safe distance, close to the steps. I don’t want to crowd her, make her feel unsafe, and I keep my hands well away from my weapon as I take a slow look around.
The front door is hanging open.
Can’t see inside at this angle, but I’m guessing that’s where our problem is.
Looks like there’s been a disturbance around the house. Grass in the side yard bent and broken, freshly crushed, probably by somebody running to dig into it that hard.
Was it her just taking a look around?
Or maybe someone fled the crime scene?
“Miss Clarendon, right?” My gaze snaps back to her.
She narrows her eyes. Now I can see they’re blue, indigo-like, a kind of dark night-sky shade.
“Yes. That’s me,” she whispers.
“Lieutenant Graves. Lucas.” I nod at the chief. “And this is Chief Bowden.”
“Think you met my wife,” Bowden pipes up in his slow, sleepy drawl. He’s staring off at the woods and doesn’t seem all that interested.
I hold in a sigh. Man’s getting close to retirement, and honestly, it’s a bit overdue.
“Janelle?” he asks.
“Um, yeah,” Delilah says coldly. “She gave me the keys. Don’t think she left me the dead girl, though.”
“Absolutely not,” I agree. Hell, I’ve known Janelle Bowden my whole life, and she can’t even swat a bee. “Mind if we take a quick look?”
“I doubt she’s going anywhere,” Delilah bites off before her face smooths. “I mean... I’m sorry. I think I’m still in shock. Yeah, take your time.”
I step up on the porch. The boards creak under me.
She immediately stiffens as I draw closer. I stop, keeping my gaze fixed on her and not looking inside just yet.
“You can breathe,” I say. “I doubt you’re a suspect. No need to panic. There’s a sidewalk over there if you don’t want to be here.”
I point my thumb over my shoulder.
Her lips thin.
For the briefest second, I think I’m about to get that city-girl freakout I expected.
Then she looks away, hugging her arms to her chest. “I’m not worried about that.”