Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 103552 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 518(@200wpm)___ 414(@250wpm)___ 345(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103552 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 518(@200wpm)___ 414(@250wpm)___ 345(@300wpm)
“Should I—”
“She’s fine. I gave her some water. I have to check on a few things, then I’ll take care of it. You do your job. Process the evidence. Go take another look at the scene. Bring someone else out with you. Find out who called it in. Talk to the fire crew. Get their statements. You know the drill.”
“Yes, Chief,” he said, ducking his head as he went into the station. He didn’t like this much more than I did. Avery wasn’t her father. Not even close. No one in town would want to see her in jail for arson. And there wouldn’t be a thing I could do about it if I didn’t find a reason to let her out.
I went to the only person who could help me. Normally, I’d walk to my parents’ house, but I didn’t want to run into anyone on the street. I drove the short distance and let myself in, finding my father in his study, watching a football game.
“Can I turn this off for a minute?” I asked.
He looked up in surprise. “West. Didn’t expect to see you today.” He paused, taking in my expression. “What happened?”
I sat in the leather armchair opposite his. “Avery Sawyer was just arrested for arson. Wild Haven Brewing. No casualties, but it’s looking like a total loss; burned to the ground.”
He stared at me, jaw dropped. I didn’t think I’d ever seen such an undignified expression on my father’s face. He recovered quickly, snapping his mouth closed. He rose from his chair slowly.
“That calls for a bourbon.” He raised his eyebrow my way.
Normally, I’d say, “No, I’m working.” But it was my day off, and a bourbon sounded like a great fucking idea. I answered with a short nod, and his eyes flared just enough to let me know he’d been expecting me to decline. I would have expected myself to decline. But I was upside down and inside out, and nothing felt normal. Avery was in jail. My jail.
“You arrested her brother when you knew he was innocent,” my father said, handing me a cut crystal glass with a finger of bourbon.
I leaned in and took a sniff. He’d gone for the good stuff. That wasn’t a great sign. I sipped and then nodded. “I did,” I said.
“Even though you knew he didn’t do it.”
“I didn’t know,” I said.
“But you were pretty damn sure.”
“I was pretty damn sure,” I agreed. “But the evidence—we had too much pointing to guilt and none pointing to innocence. I had to do my job.”
“You always do your job, West,” my father said, sitting back down in his chair and taking a sip of bourbon. “I give you a hard time about it, but I’ve always admired that about you. You don’t take shit from anyone, and you do your job—even when it’s hard and uncomfortable and inconvenient. You do your job.” He sat back. “What kind of evidence do you have on Avery?”
I told him.
He shook his head. “Seems a little thin.”
“Agreed,” I said. “The problem is, she was there in the building while it was burning. Jim already checked with Bob—he didn’t ask her to come to the brewery. She didn’t have a reason to be there, but she was.”
“Someone is messing with her,” he said, taking a slow sip from his glass. “Sounds like she almost died. Anyone checked her lungs out?”
Both thoughts sent a spike of fear through me. Someone had tried to have her killed; that was obvious to me now. And her lungs? Shit. No. She wasn’t coughing, seemed like she was breathing okay. Other than being disheveled and dirty, she hadn’t looked injured. The shock of seeing her in jail had knocked all logic out of my head.
“I should have had her checked out,” I said under my breath.
“Well, you still can,” my father said reasonably.
Sudden urgency to get Avery to the doctor pushed me forward. “I need a favor.”
My father’s eyebrows flew up, and he took another sip of bourbon. “Well, pigs must be flying if you’re asking me for a favor. What can I do for you, son?”
“I need you to call Judge Claremont. I want her released on her own recognizance.”
My father drew in a long breath and let it out slowly.
“I’ve never asked—” I reminded him.
He cut me off with a shake of his head. “I know you’ve never asked.” He studied my face for a long moment. “She didn’t do it,” he said, and I wasn’t sure if it was a question or a statement.
“No,” I said, setting the bourbon on the side table. A sip had been enough. I needed to keep my head straight.
“And you’re sure?” he pressed. “Even with thin evidence, it doesn’t mean she’s innocent. Even if someone was trying to set her up, she may be into something you don’t know about.”