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)
The door at the end of the hall swung open, and West was there. He met my eyes but said nothing. I couldn’t read his expression. He looked serious. Was he mad? He was something, but whatever it was, he kept it tucked deep inside, and I couldn’t read his face.
He approached the door to the cell and pulled out a set of keys. “Let’s go,” he said, unlocking the door and swinging it open.
I followed him to the door at the end of the hall. When he stayed silent, I swallowed my humiliation and said, “Bathroom?”
West’s step hitched, and he stopped, turning and pointing to a door on the same hall as his office. “Be quick,” he said.
I popped in, relieved my painful bladder, and washed my hands longer than usual, as if I could somehow get the smell of smoke off me just by cleaning my hands. West was waiting for me in the hall when I exited the bathroom. He lifted his chin, pointing to a door I hadn’t noticed off to the left. I followed and found myself in the rear parking lot of the police station.
“Where are we going?” I asked.
“Clinic first, to get you checked out,” he said, leading me to his SUV.
“I think I’m fine,” I said, very aware that I was not wearing handcuffs. Why not? I wanted to ask, but I kept my mouth shut, not entirely sure I wanted the answer. “I haven’t coughed in a while.”
“I want the doc to check out your lungs,” West said. I knew by his tone that resisting would be a waste of time.
“Okay,” I agreed. I’d had one argument with West over stupid shit this week. I didn’t want to have another. I’d been caught in a burning building, too frantic to get out to really think about how much smoke I might have inhaled. I knew that could be dangerous. Considering he might bring me straight back to that cell afterward, it made sense to enjoy the fresh air while I had it.
The short drive to the clinic was silent. West appeared occupied by his thoughts, and I was too much of a chicken to start a conversation. It felt like an awkward time to apologize for my part in our fight. And considering I was a suspect in a felony, maybe I should take Jim’s advice and keep my mouth shut.
West led me into the clinic, where the receptionist waved us straight back to an exam room. We weren’t there more than a minute before Dr. Green stepped in. I didn’t know him well; he was new to town, but he’d been in for a beer once or twice.
He slipped a pulse ox monitor on my finger and pulled out his stethoscope. “I don’t need you to get into a gown,” he said, “but if you could pull up the back of your shirt, I’ll have a listen.”
The cold stethoscope burned icy circles into my skin as I drew in the deepest breaths I could manage without hacking my lungs out.
“I think you got lucky, Avery,” Dr. Green said. “Your lungs sound okay, blood oxygen and pulse rate are normal. It was smart to come in and get checked, but you’re good to go.”
“Thanks, Doc,” I said.
“Anytime.”
My gut went cold again as I followed West out of the clinic and back to his SUV. That had been too fast, and I wasn’t ready to go back to that concrete box, to breathe in stale sweat and the reek of smoke clinging to my skin. But when we pulled out onto the main road, West didn’t turn toward the station.
“Where are we going?” I asked, breaking the heavy silence.
“My place,” he said.
I stared at him, eyes wide, mouth hanging open just enough that I probably looked like a stunned fish. “Aren’t I supposed to be in prison?”
“Jail,” West corrected, “not prison. Prison is something else. And no.”
“Did you find who set the fire?” I asked, thoroughly confused. They must have found the arsonist if he was letting me out.
West shook his head. “Not yet. But I will.”
“Then how? Jim arrested me.” I couldn’t make the pieces fit in my head. Nothing I knew of West jived with him letting a prisoner out of jail just because. I’d known West most of my life; he’d always been a by-the-book, black and white kind of guy, even when he was a kid. “Then how?” I asked again.
West pulled into his driveway, put the SUV in park, and turned to look at me, really look at me. I still couldn’t read his expression, or maybe I was afraid to.
“I called in a favor. Judge Claremont released you on your own recognizance. You can’t leave town, but for now, you don’t need to sit in jail either.” He rounded the hood and came to open my door.