Total pages in book: 123
Estimated words: 114419 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 572(@200wpm)___ 458(@250wpm)___ 381(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 114419 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 572(@200wpm)___ 458(@250wpm)___ 381(@300wpm)
I’d start by punishing the very first ones Mother had chosen over me, the ones who’d helped her sneak and lie. And then I’d move on to the big winner and his detective. I’d make them pay. And I’d make her watch it as I did.
Oh yes, I’d make Mother see me. I’d make her look my way. I’d remind her that mothers who abandoned their children to monsters didn’t deserve to live.
Oh no. Oh God. She went to reach for her phone in her back pocket. She needed to call Gavin. She needed to call Kat. He has Mirabelle. He must.
Strong arms wrapped around her from behind, and she jerked, reaching for her weapon as a strong chemical smell invaded her airways. She smashed her head backward, making contact with the man holding her, and he let out a grunt, tightening his hold. She struggled, taking in big gulps of the chloroform-laced rag, her muscles growing heavier and heavier, tears stinging her eyes as she tried desperately to stay awake, to fight. Her weapon was so close . . . so close. She couldn’t make herself move. Oh God. Gavin. She folded, drooping to the ground, the words coming to her just before she lost consciousness.
“I knew you’d come here, Detective. I gambled on it.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Gavin pressed end and tossed his phone on the counter, his concern ratcheting a notch higher. Sienna had told him she’d text when she left his mom’s. He’d second-guessed himself, thinking maybe she’d meant she’d text when she left her house after showering and changing, and so he’d given it a little more time, but that had been an hour and a half ago. He’d tried Mirabelle’s number several times, too, to no response.
Had something come up regarding work? Still, though, wouldn’t she have let him know? He understood the nature of her job was that she dealt with emergencies, however, so he’d tried not to worry. And wasn’t succeeding.
His phone dinged as a text came through, and he grabbed for it when he saw Sienna’s name. His breath gusted out as he opened the message, his brows knitting.
Can you meet me at Argus’s? Come quickly. Come alone.
What?
He attempted to call her, but again, it went to voice mail.
Was something wrong with Argus? Or with his mom?
But if so, Sienna would call him. She wouldn’t send a cryptic text message.
He paused, trying to figure out what to do, and finally went to his safe and removed his gun and holster.
Come alone.
Sienna’s partner’s name was Kat, he was pretty sure. Should he try to call her? Or the police? The problem was, the police wouldn’t just meet him there and follow his instructions to stay out of sight and park three streets over in case he needed them.
Come alone.
What if not doing so put Sienna in danger in some way? If it wasn’t her texting him, then someone had her phone. Someone had her.
And potentially his mother, too, because that was where Sienna had been headed. God, he shouldn’t have listened to his mom earlier. There’d been something in her voice. He’d passed it off as sickness, but . . . he should have gone there himself and checked on her whether she’d asked him to or not.
This isn’t helpful, Decker. Move.
Gavin grabbed a sweatshirt and headed for the door.
He made the twenty-five-minute drive to Argus’s in nineteen, his hands gripping the wheel, forcing himself to stay as calm as he could, knowing he needed to be quick but that it would do no one any good if he got into a car accident because he was in a state of panic.
He parked a block away and walked through the backyards to Argus’s house, his hand on his weapon. The house was dark, but the moon overhead was full and bright. He could see that the back curtains were closed. His heart pumped quickly as he stole around the front, stopping every few steps to listen for any small noise, but all was still and silent.
The unlocked front door opened, emitting a soft creak as it swung on its hinges. He drew his weapon, holding it facing downward as he put his back to the wall and moved inside.
He smelled the body before he found it—the very early stench of decay—his heart slamming in his chest. Oh fuck. Argus. Oh Jesus. His throat burned, his chest aching as he stared, back pressed against the kitchen wall, at the remains of the only father he’d ever known, the man who had taught him how to shave, how to tie a tie, and how to look another man in his eyes when you shook his hand. A painful lump filled his throat, but he swallowed it down, his breath coming short. Oh God. No time, no time for that. Argus was gone. Sienna and Mirabelle were his priorities right now.