Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 102903 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 515(@200wpm)___ 412(@250wpm)___ 343(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102903 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 515(@200wpm)___ 412(@250wpm)___ 343(@300wpm)
“No shit?” I respond, my mouth gaping in surprise.
Shane snorts. “Pretty sure we’ve never had a suspect make it this easy for us.”
The mere mention of Waylon’s name sets me on edge. Getting him down to the station for questioning is something we’ve been working on for the past few days, but the man hasn’t been easy to nail down. Not to mention, he’s called in a few more times to Hannah’s Ruby line. Every single time, he’s verbalized his sick fantasies that involve causing women pain. A lot of fucking pain.
A visual of Hannah’s uncomfortable face during one of those calls pops into my mind, and I clench my jaw.
“Have you questioned him yet?”
“No.”
“Good,” I answer, my mind 100 percent focused on having a face-to-face with the son of a bitch. “Wait for me.”
“Okay. Where are you? What’s your ETA?”
I glance back toward the kitchen, realizing my current logistics are a little complicated. “I need, like, forty minutes. Just have to take Hannah home first.”
“Take Hannah home?” he questions. “Where are you?”
“At my parents’ house.”
“Hannah is with you at your parents’ house?” His voice has an edge. An edge I don’t necessarily understand. More like you don’t want to understand.
“It’s Louie’s birthday,” I try to explain, but the line goes silent for so long that I end up asking, “You still there?”
“Yeah. I’m here.” Shane’s voice is the kind of quiet that doesn’t make you feel good. “But I can’t deny I’m having a hell of a time understanding your current situation.”
My current situation—a.k.a. why Hannah is with me.
“Just sit tight. I’m on my way,” I retort, ignoring whatever he’s trying to insinuate. But his words echo long after I hang up, forcing me to confront what I already know deep down—this isn’t about the case anymore. It’s about protecting Hannah. It’s about her.
And you’d do just about anything for her—no matter the cost.
24
Dominic
7:00 p.m.
The instant I walk into the station, I find Shane standing near reception, chatting up Colleen, another detective in our unit he’s been fixated on lately.
Two months ago, it was Demi, an officer who runs a beat out of MNPD’s South Precinct.
And a few months prior to that it was Nadia, a forensics investigator stationed out of our North Precinct.
All three are blond, blue-eyed, and outspoken in the kind of way that makes it clear they take zero shit—otherwise known as Shane’s favorite brand of woman.
“Where is he?” I ask, and Shane nods toward the back of the station, where our interrogation rooms reside.
“Three.”
I offer Colleen a nod hello and keep walking.
“Whoa!” Shane calls, jogging to catch up. “Where’s the fire?”
“I’d say it’s in three,” I answer, still moving toward the hallway where the interrogation rooms sit.
“And what is your plan exactly?”
Only then do I pause, as I stand right outside interrogation room 3’s door. “To fucking interrogate him?”
Shane’s eyes are filled with scrutiny as they search mine. “What’s going on, man?”
“What do you mean, what’s going on?” I counter. “I left a family party to come down here and have a nice little chat with this piece of shit.”
Shane just stares at me.
“You got a problem with that?”
“No.” He shrugs. “But I am a little worried about the approach.”
I know Shane is right to be cautious, but I can’t seem to temper the frustration building inside me. My blood is practically boiling, and I can’t stop thinking about all the disgusting shit Waylon has said to Hannah. Can’t stop thinking about the fact that she has to deal with scum like him every time she picks up that fucking CMA line.
Every damn day she’s at risk of talking to vile human beings who could be capable of murdering two women.
A healthy dose of adrenaline dumps into my veins, and my body is primed to have a conversation with this guy.
I push through the door, making a point to let it fly open hard enough that it bangs against the wall and startles the man sitting at the metal table in the corner of the room. He’s a lanky guy with a scraggly beard, and the fear in his eyes only amps me up more.
Good, you sick fuck. You should be scared.
“Waylon Hades?” I question just as Shane walks into the room behind me, shutting the door much more calmly than I opened it.
“Y-yeah.” Waylon nods, his hands shaking so hard now he has to put them in his lap and clench them together. “I don’t k-know w-why I’m in here.”
“You don’t know why you’re in here?” I repeat with a sarcastic laugh and pull up one of the chairs to sit directly across from him at the table.
Shane hangs back, standing in the corner of the room.
“Well, you picked up a prostitute.” I flip open the manila folder that contains his file. I scan through the papers. “An eighteen-year-old girl,” I comment. “You like them young, huh?”