Total pages in book: 140
Estimated words: 131364 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 657(@200wpm)___ 525(@250wpm)___ 438(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 131364 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 657(@200wpm)___ 525(@250wpm)___ 438(@300wpm)
Adam had joined the cops by then, to be asked by them if he knew anything further. “Heart attack—no more details yet,” he said. “I arrived as the paramedics did.”
“How did they beat us here?” Hendricks asked, the twenty-six-year-old’s uniform as snug as always on his muscular frame; the handsome deputy’s favorite off-work activity was lifting weights, a hobby he shared with a couple of Adam’s clanmates.
Today, however, his normally crisp uniform bore the wrinkles of a long night. “Usually,” Hendricks added, “we’re the first responders in Raintree.”
“They were already nearby,” Beaufort said; while he was in full uniform, too, his was much fresher, his silver-tinged black hair neatly combed.
Adam guessed he’d come back on shift halfway through Hendricks’s, doing much the same as Adam: juggling people so no one was left alone too long and everyone had a chance to rest. Not a concern in sleepy Raintree most of the time, but this wasn’t a usual situation by any measure.
“Mildred called about chest pains and she looked pretty bad when I swung by to see her,” Beaufort said, “so I tagged the paramedics. Turned out to be gas, but by my reckoning, they would’ve been barely on the way out when the call came about the chief.”
Whitten—in street clothes, her braids in a messy bun—whistled. “Our resident hypochondriac might’ve saved the chief’s life.” She shook her head. “I’ll have to stop moaning every time I have to respond to a call from her.”
“Damn, the chief’s lucky it wasn’t me that took that call,” Hendricks admitted with a long face, his dark eyes awash in worry. “I’m so over Mildred I would’ve probably just told her to take antacids and ended up killing the chief.”
Whitten patted his arm in silent sympathy.
“Did any of you know the chief had heart problems?” Adam asked, also well aware of Mildred Abernathy’s long list of imagined health complaints; according to his grandmother, Mildred had been dying of one illness or another since they were in kindergarten together.
How Aria would’ve grinned at this turn of events.
Beaufort and Whitten shook their heads, but Hendricks shoved a hand through the dark brown of his curls and frowned. “He was complaining about feeling off when he called to say he was headed home, but he said he probably just ate something wrong.”
“I wish I’d had the chance to talk to him,” Beaufort said.
“I asked,” Hendricks told his superior officer, no longer the macho young male who was a favorite with the women in town, but a young deputy afraid he’d done something wrong. “But he said to let you sleep and he’d call you once he was awake and you could give him a full debrief.”
“Talking of which…” Beaufort reached into his squad car and retrieved an organizer that he passed on to Adam. “Here’s the interim report from the forensics people. They worked late to process at least some of the materials.”
“Thanks.”
“The chief always said to share things with you when it concerned WindHaven, and I know you’ve got an excellent team after what I saw at the site.” The experienced detective put his hands on his hips, his gray eyes narrowed. “The J, you met her?”
Adam was in no mood to think about Eleri, much less discuss her; he just said a clipped “Yes” as he scanned the forensic report.
“She’s got a good eye, was the one who first located the tire tracks.”
Passing back the organizer—the interim report held nothing that could help them hunt down the person who’d shot Jacques—he said, “You’ll update us as you get more data?”
“Yes, I know it’s what the chief would want.”
“I appreciate that, Rex.” Adam shook hands with the other man.
“I can clean up the chief’s place if anything got messed up during his heart attack,” Hendricks offered hesitantly as the group went to part ways. “I’ll make it nice like Mrs. Cross always keeps it. I know when my granddad had a stroke and fell, he hit a shelf and everything fell out. The mess made my grandma cry because it was a reminder, you know?”
Adam found himself speaking without thinking about it. “Rafina Cross is also pretty territorial about how she likes things arranged. I wouldn’t touch anything, just lock up the house. From what I saw, there isn’t much of a mess regardless.”
Beaufort chuckled and it was weak. “Yeah, she’s real particular. I think Adam’s right—we leave it as it is, and turn up to ask if she needs help once she’s back.”
That decided, Adam watched Beaufort lock up the house. Whitten left at the same time to shower and change in readiness for her day shift, while Hendricks headed back to the station to write up his reports before he clocked out.
“You know you can always call us if you need help dealing with anything?” Adam said to the detective when they were alone. “We consider Raintree part of our home, want to keep it safe.” He’d always before dealt with Chief Cross—and the older man had long ago had these conversations with Adam’s grandmother.