Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 73754 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 369(@200wpm)___ 295(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73754 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 369(@200wpm)___ 295(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
On my computer screen was a rain-streaked black-and-white video of my street. It was footage from my next-door neighbor’s doorbell camera, which didn’t have the best angle or quality. That didn’t matter, though, since I could still see the car that sped away from my house and down the street.
I replayed the five seconds of footage that showed the car. Over and over again. I couldn’t make out anything about the driver, nor did I see a license plate or any other big identifying marks, but at least I could figure out the make and model of the car. It was an older Honda Civic with what appeared to be a dent in the bumper and a scratch on the driver’s door, although I couldn’t make out if it was just dirty or not.
Still, it felt like a big lead. I was quite literally looking at the person behind all this; now I just needed to figure out who the hell it was.
A knock on my door pulled my attention. Darien opened, popping his head in. Houston gave him a welcome squawk from the top of my bookshelf.
“Hey, boss, I’ve got Evan here for you.”
“Perfect, let him in.”
From one lead to another. It had taken a little bit of begging on my part, but I was able to get Evan scheduled for an interview with me. Our first chat didn’t exactly go very smoothly, but I had high hopes for this one. Being in my office made it a more neutral space than his club, and now I understood the kind of guy Evan was. It would be much easier to navigate around the anger I knew bubbled underneath.
At least I hoped it would be easier.
Darien stepped aside, and Evan entered, wearing a tight-fitting yellow polo shirt with ripped jeans and a glittering gold wristwatch with a diamond-encrusted face almost as big as his wrist. He had a fresh haircut and a clean-shaven face, sporting a casual grin and holding out a hand for me to shake.
“Thanks for coming in,” I said. His grip was firm but not finger-breaking firm.
“No problem.” He grabbed the seat in front of my desk, and I took mine (which had been replaced with an office chair suitable for human-size use). Houston, probably sensing the tension, flew out of the room before Darien closed the door.
“First off.” I fisted my hands together and leaned forward on the desk. “I want to apologize for what went down the last time we talked. Things shouldn’t have escalated.”
Evan nodded with a tight-lipped smile. “I agree.”
All right, now that “pleasantries” were out of the way, it was time to get to the heart of the issue. I sat back in my chair, making sure not to break eye contact with him. “Something’s going on in Blue Creek, Evan, and I need your help to figure it out. I’m not sure exactly who, but someone out there is trying to hide something, and they’re stopping at nothing to make sure it’s hidden. It started with Charlie’s fall, and now Hank’s dead, and I have reason to believe it all ties together.”
“I know. That’s why I decided to show up. Hank… he shouldn’t have gone like that. He was a good guy. One of the best. He took a risk bringing me on as a partner, and I’ll never be able to repay him for that.” A genuine shadow of grief passed over Evan’s face. His lips curved downward, and his head dropped. “How can I help?”
I opened a manilla folder and pulled out the series of photos we had found in Hank’s place. “Let’s start here.”
“Wait a second—how’d you get these?”
Going off Evan’s shocked expression, I could tell that whatever Hank was up to, he hadn’t let Evan in on it.
“Hank took these. What were you doing with the sheriff?”
Evan looked through the photos, the disbelief quickly fading off his face. “He set up a meeting with me. Was being real shady about it—I almost didn’t even show up, but he was pretty persistent.”
“A meeting about what?”
“He wanted to set up a business venture together, but like I said, he was being shady as fuck. Wouldn’t give me any real details. I told Hank about the meeting beforehand, and he had already warned me to say no to whatever Pope wanted.” He set the photos down and stared me down. “Tell me the truth, no bullshit: was Hank murdered?”
I nodded. Evan rolled his neck, bones popping, his forehead and cheeks growing red. “Fuck. I knew it. And the police say it was an overdose. Fucking trash. I should have knocked that guy’s lights out when I had the chance.”
“And you would have still been sitting in a jail cell if you did that.”
Evan shook his head, sitting back. “So Hank was tailing the sheriff?”