Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 98819 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 494(@200wpm)___ 395(@250wpm)___ 329(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98819 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 494(@200wpm)___ 395(@250wpm)___ 329(@300wpm)
I’m twisting the ring on my finger, fiddling with the giant rock he gave me, when the vision rocks me.
Smoke billows around me. My eyes sting with it. I taste ash, flinching as the sparks fly in my face and burning flecks bite my skin.
“Inara!” Someone is shouting. It’s Rex, and I’m seized with incredible terror. Not for myself, but for him. Death is coming for one of us, and I have a choice to make.
I open my arms and let myself fall.
My hand slaps the table in front of me, and the vision clears. I feel like I’m still falling, the sensation strong enough that I needed to catch myself before I face-planted on the files I was reading.
My visions are coming faster. They’re a warning, and I have the sinking feeling that they’re heralding my doom.
“Detective,” Hamish says from behind me.
I fumble to close the murder book as if I’m a school child caught daydreaming, then realize how ridiculous this is and turn towards him.
He holds up his cell phone. “I have Detective Lacy Collins on the line.”
I can’t talk to her because I have to pretend I’m dead.
I must look confused because he explains, “She’s been fully vetted, so I’ve been keeping her abreast of the situation. We connected when I requested her notes and have kept in touch ever since. She heard about the explosion, but I was able to reach her before she called your cell.”
What is he saying? “So she knows?”
“She knows everything I know,” Hamish says, and a flood of relief weakens my limbs to the point where I slump in the chair. “I think it’s wise to keep her informed. I believe we can count on her discretion.” Is that a hint of warmth and respect in Hamish’s normally stuffy tone?
I nod. Lacy is a steel trap. She was the only woman detective in her department for a decade, and based on the stories she told me, she learned the hard way to keep her own counsel. I trust her.
“She’d like to speak to you if that’s all right. She might be able to tell us more about the accelerants found in the rubble of the Bondage Killer’s last hideout.”
Right. She’s still a key part of this case. But my hand trembles when I reach for Hamish’s phone. I haven’t spoken to her in so long.
“Inara?” I don’t know what I was expecting, but hearing her familiar deep voice is like coming home.
I splay a hand over her notes as if touching them will connect me to her. “I’m here.” My throat is closing. There’s so much I want to say—I’m sorry, I’m okay, please understand what I’ve done—but I’m too overwhelmed.
“Thank goodness you’re okay.” Lacy is normally very stoic, unfazed by the decades of horrible cases she’s worked on, but I can hear the relief in her tone. “Hamish told me about your partner.”
No one knows about Burgess’s betrayal. Not anyone in the department or the news. There’s no proof other than my testimony, and I’m happy to let people think he died in the warehouse tracking the Bondage Killer.
“He filled me in and gave me his private number, and I called him after I heard about the explosion.”
“You were right. He had an in with the cops.” I don’t have to say who he is. “Just like before.”
“Any leads?”
I close my eyes. “No. He’s still a ghost.”
“He’s not. He’s a man, and he makes mistakes.”
I want to believe her. BK looms large in my nightmares and seems omniscient. Always several steps ahead of even Rex.
He almost killed us.
“Inara. Listen to me.” My mentor’s voice is as steely as it’s ever been. “You can’t blame yourself.”
“It is my fault. I should’ve seen it coming.” I did. I had glimpses of Burgess in my visions, I just didn’t put it together.
“No, it’s not. You have to believe me when I tell you it’s not.” Her voice softens. “I know why you’re a detective. I know that you’ve been trying to atone for your family’s deaths all this time. I know because I was the same.” Lacy signed up to be a policewoman after her friend died in a brutal assault. “But you can’t let guilt drive you. It’s a distraction. It will steal your sleep and your sanity if you let it. You help people better when you’re healed. When you’re thinking clearly.”
I stay silent because she’s making sense. I haven’t been able to sleep through the night, and it’s affecting everything.
“You’re beating yourself up because you think it might do some good. But it doesn’t. And even if it did, you’re worth the healing.” She sighs. “It took me a long time to let go of my own shit. I’m sorry I wasn’t able to teach you to do the same.”
She’s teaching me now, I realize, and it might be enough.