Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 71312 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 357(@200wpm)___ 285(@250wpm)___ 238(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71312 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 357(@200wpm)___ 285(@250wpm)___ 238(@300wpm)
“You didn’t drag me into anything, Vannah. I came willingly.”
“Without knowing what you were getting into.”
“I’d have found out eventually.”
“What’s that mean?”
He pauses a moment, frowns. “I…uh…had some people look into you. I got the information today.”
“So you knew?”
“No. Not until afterward. My source called me after—”
“Oh, my God… How could you not trust me?”
“For Christ’s sake, Vannah. I just believe in checking things out.”
“Would you have let me go if you had found out about my family before all this went down?”
I regret my words immediately. Mr. Shaw is dead, and Mrs. Shaw was attacked. I nearly killed a man, and Falcon was dragged into this. Why am I being so petty? Clearly, Falcon shouldn’t have trusted me.
I shouldn’t have trusted that my family could keep me out of danger.
But he looks into my eyes, his own on fire. “Not a chance, Savannah. I don’t know how it happened, but somehow, I’ve fallen hard.”
Part of me melts, even in this aftermath. It’s not an admission of love, but it’s something. And the truth is? I feel the same way.
I open my mouth to say so, when—
“Help!” Mrs. Shaw shrieks from the kitchen.
I rush to her side. “Mrs. Shaw?”
“It hurts. It hurts so bad!”
“I know. I know. Help is coming.” I rise and look through her cupboards for some aspirin or ibuprofen. “Can you check the bathroom, Falcon? See if there’s something for her pain?”
He nods and walks to the bathroom. Good, because he’s right. I don’t want to see what’s in there. Especially if it was done with my gun.
Falcon returns. “Nothing over the counter, but I found these. Percocet.”
“I can’t give her a narcotic.”
“It says they’re for Mr. Shaw, anyway.”
“We’ll just have to wait.” I place a cool cloth on Mrs. Shaw’s forehead, smoothing back her gray hair. “I’m so sorry.”
Then the sirens.
And God, the cops.
Again.
Again I’ll have to tell a story to the cops.
“They’re coming,” Falcon says. “What do you want me to do with your gun?”
“I don’t know. Give it to them, I guess. It’s clearly the murder weapon.” I rise and pace around the Shaws’ kitchen. “This is so fucked up! I’m an officer of the court, Falcon. A parole officer. I’m supposed to be one of the good guys.”
Falcon wraps his arms around me. “You are, Vannah. You are. But being a good guy doesn’t mean you don’t sometimes get mixed up with bad guys. I should fucking know.”
A few moments later, Falcon open the door and lets the EMTs in.
They gather around Mrs. Shaw.
“You know how old she is?” one of them asks me.
“I don’t. I’d guess mid-sixties.”
“Has she taken anything?”
“Not that I know of. She says it hurts though.”
“I’m sure it does.” He touches Mrs. Shaw’s neck. “We’ve got you, ma’am.”
Once Mrs. Shaw is on the stretcher and out the door, the police arrive.
“What happened here?” one officer asks.
Thankfully, the officers aren’t the same ones who were at Falcon’s.
I breathe in, try to get my pulse under control. “I live in the other side of the duplex. I rent it from the Shaws. I came home about a half hour ago to find my place trashed. When we knocked on the Shaws’ door, there was no answer. The door was unlocked so we came in.”
“And you found Mrs. Shaw in the kitchen.”
“Yeah. It looked like she’d been punched in the face several times. Probably in the stomach too. She was lying here, and her face was bloody, but her pulse was strong. I cleaned her face up.”
“And her husband?”
I gulp. “I haven’t seen him, but Falcon says he was shot. His body’s in the tub.”
“Officer Denny is talking to your friend now about Mr. Shaw.”
“I should tell you. I think it may be my gun that was used.”
The officer’s eyebrows shoot up. “Oh?”
“Yeah. I wasn’t even here. I’ve been at Falcon’s all day. God, this day!” I rub my forehead against the jackhammer inside.
“Is there any reason why anyone would want to frame you?”
I can think of about a dozen, but I’m not saying them. “No. I haven’t done anything. I just started a new job as a parole officer for the county last week. I haven’t even lived here for two full weeks yet.”
“I see.” He makes notes on his tablet. “How close were you to the Shaws?”
“Not very. Like I said, I’ve only lived here for a short time. They’re my landlords.”
Or they were.
Mr. Shaw is gone, and Mrs. Shaw isn’t going to want to be anywhere near me after she finds out what went down.
“All right. Was your gun locked up?”
“Yes, sir. In a safe under my bed.”
“Who else had the combination?”
“Only me.”
Uh-oh. I probably shouldn’t have said that.
“You sure?”
“I think so. I don’t recall telling anyone else. I don’t have a roommate, so…”
“All right. Good enough. These home safes are easy to crack for someone who knows what he’s doing. We may want to speak to you again.” He hands me a card.