Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 99017 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 495(@200wpm)___ 396(@250wpm)___ 330(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99017 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 495(@200wpm)___ 396(@250wpm)___ 330(@300wpm)
Looks like your gut about a crooked cop cover-up might have been on point. Which means we need to be even more careful moving forward.
VERY VERY CAREFUL!
Talk to you tomorrow, okay?
Hugs,
Plato
P.S. Congratulations on banging your boss. It sounds like you guys are having a great time down there, LOL.
P.P.S. I’m not mad. I promise. Halfway through the drive over, I realized I was exhausted. I almost called to tell you I wasn’t coming, so I’m happy to head home. And I’m really happy we’re closer to having some answers for you.
P.P.P.S. But seriously, DON’T do anything yet. Like I said, don’t even Google him, just in case. If this is a cover-up, we have to make sure we have all our ducks in a row before they realize we’re on to them. Once my dad sobers up tomorrow, I’ll talk to him about the best next steps and text you, okay?
I sit down hard in the wooden dining chair, reading through the note again.
Then, a third time, a part of me unable to believe this is real. That I’m finally close to holding the asshole who hurt me accountable.
Or that I at least know who did it.
Sounds like holding him accountable might be a more difficult thing…
I’ve suspected there was something fishy going on with my case for a while now, but seeing evidence that it might be true—even circumstantial evidence like NOPD officers liking this man’s social media—is chilling.
And enraging. Sickening.
This man could have killed me, Bea, and her unborn baby, and he absolutely did derail my entire life. He caused me pain and suffering and fear and forced everyone who loved me to rearrange their lives to help me get through the first few months after the accident.
Blue and Beatrice have both seen my bare ass while helping me off the toilet because of this man.
This…Dex Valerie.
I want to Google him so badly, I can hardly stand it. But I trust Plato. If he says it’s best not to leave a digital trail, I’m sure he’s right. He’s way more knowledgeable about hacker stuff than I am, and his dad’s a retired private detective.
I’m lucky to have people on my side who will help me do this the right way, but still…
Still, my skin itches all the way through my shower, and it’s all I can do not to race across the grass and tap on Dean’s window after. I’m dying to tell someone what I’ve learned, but I can’t tell Dean.
Not yet. Not until I have a plan.
Dean isn’t a hothead, by any stretch, but he’s protective of me. And he’s part of the “pro athlete” social scene in New Orleans. He knows a lot of NFL and NBA players in this city. There’s a chance he might know people in the UFC world, too.
And if he knows Dex Valerie and feels comfortable asking for a meet-up…
Well, I can easily imagine that meet-up turning into Dean’s fist in Dex’s face, which would be delicious, sure, but I want more than that. I want justice. Real justice. For Beatrice, for me, and anyone else this man has hurt in his reckless, violent, shitty life.
I’m positive his life has been reckless and violent. I don’t need Google confirmation for that. I can feel it in my bones, especially the bones in my leg, that—thanks to the sex gymnastics on the sunbed—are aching more tonight than in recent memory.
I have zero regrets, obviously, but Dean and I really need to make it to a bed next time.
Next time…
There’s definitely going to be a next time.
And I can’t wait.
Nineteen
DEAN
Three days later
Mardi Gras
Bella, in her pineapple Mardi Gras costume, has been on my shoulders since Jefferson Avenue.
Judging by the happy smacking sounds overhead, she consumed about seventy percent of her slice of king cake before declaring she needed a break.
Which leaves thirty percent unaccounted for.
If the nerve endings in my scalp are to be believed, however, most of that is currently being kneaded into the back of my head…
“Bell, please,” I say, wincing as another glob of sugar oozes over my ear. I reach up, flicking it to the ground as I add, “Cake in the hand, not on the dad. Remember?”
“It is in my hand, Daddy. I’m holding it real soft and saving it for later. Don’t be worried, it’s okay.” She kisses the top of my head with a sweetness that leaves me no choice but to sigh, smile, and submit to my fate.
A giggle pulls my gaze to my right, where Clover and Ava are whispering in a way that isn’t reassuring.
At all.
“What?” I demand. “Is she wrong? Should I be worried?”
“Very worried!” Ava, the cutest dragon wearing a taco T-shirt at the parade, bursts into a giggle fit. “Your hair looks crazy. It’s all smooshed and full of cake!”