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)
Yeah, neat.
Shouldn’t there be froth coming out of her lips or something if she ODed? Maybe more than spit.
I don’t know.
I’m thinking too hard, and seeing her like this jolts me.
After staring another minute, I make myself put the photos down.
I start paging through the case report instead.
It doesn’t take me long to find a toxicology summary from the county coroner.
Wow, that’s a lot of cocaine in her system.
Sure, I might be grasping at straws, thinking something else happened here.
Maybe Lucas is, too.
But I wonder if the old, raw hurt of losing his sister is blinding him to the bitter truth: that a girl came to Redhaven for a party and made her own trouble, no dirty deeds required.
It would still be an awful tragedy if that’s the case, but at least it wouldn’t mean we might have another one with a killer on the loose.
“Is that it, Emma? Am I right?” I whisper. “Are you still so restless because you did this to yourself accidentally?”
Of course, there’s no answer.
Somehow, that’s the most disturbing part.
I flip through a few more pages, then stop, frowning at a footnote on one page.
Lucas’ handwriting. I’m starting to recognize his big blocky chicken scratch.
Do not contact next of kin.
Wait, what?
Another chill knifes through me—and an odd sense of betrayal, sudden and sinking down to the tips of my toes and making me feel heavier than lead.
I don’t understand.
He’d said he’d tell them... didn’t he?
He swore up and down he’d give Emma’s family closure.
But why would he lie to me about that?
And if he lied about that, what else is he holding back?
16
Red With Rage (Lucas)
My bed feels like a chasm.
I wake up to it empty and I can’t say I’m happy about that.
More, I wake with unease, this gut punch vibrating through me the instant I roll over and find Delilah’s spot cold. Barely any wrinkles in the sheets telling me she was ever there.
With everything going on these days, I don’t feel safe when I don’t know where she is.
I listen intently, but the house is so quiet it hums.
No light under the upstairs bathroom door, either.
Fuck.
“Delilah?” I call softly.
No answer.
I slip out of bed with an alarm ringing in my skull.
You’re being paranoid, asshole. Who the hell would break into a cop’s house to get to her?
But this is Redhaven.
Whenever something weird happens, it never operates by normal rules.
I head for the stairs, moving lightly on the floor.
No light coming up from downstairs either.
I tread down silently as I make my way to the living room.
Only to see that dark head of hair on the sofa, bowed over something she’s looking at.
An explosive breath turns into a laugh as it leaves my lungs. “Jesus Christ, Lilah. You damn near gave me a heart attack, being all ridiculous with that—”
I stop when she goes stiff, looking over her shoulder at me.
Those sad blue eyes are bursting with hurt.
Pain.
Accusations.
I’m really fucking confused till I step closer and see what she’s holding.
The case file.
Emma Santos’ file.
Fuck me.
I forgot I left it out after reading through it before I went out to meet her today. That still doesn’t give her any goddamned right to—
“What are you doing with that?” I demand.
“Why didn’t you call Emma’s family?” she flings back without missing a beat.
I scowl. “You don’t know I didn’t—”
“It says it right here! I saw your note. You’re full of crap.” She stands, brandishing the folder like a knife, pages and photos bristling from the edges. “Lucas, you promised—you promised me—and right here it says you didn’t do it and you told other people not to!”
Damn.
The girl has a point, but why’s she losing her shit over this?
I drag my hand over my face. “Lilah, listen, there’s heavy shit going on that I can’t tell you—”
“Like what?” She throws the folder down on the sofa. Those terrible pictures of that poor girl go fanning out across the cushions while Delilah glares at me, her eyes scalding coals. “Like the fact that my house is still the site of an active murder investigation? Like the fact that you suspected me?”
“I was still working a few angles. I told you about Celeste—”
“Yeah? Maybe you think I went back in time and hurt her, too, since apparently you think I could’ve murdered Emma. Holy shit, you—” She stops. Her lips tremble. Worst part is, I fucking know how she feels, even if that jab about Celeste was low. “So what was your grand plan? Fuck me into complacency, and then get me to confess?”
“There was no grand fucking plan, woman. I—goddamn, look, I had to do my job as a cop, okay?” I bite off, clenching my fists helplessly. “It was early in the case. I had to consider every possibility. Wasn’t trying to get into your pants for police business, and if you think that, you’re not as smart as I thought. I can’t believe you’d stand here and fucking think I don’t—”