Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 72822 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 364(@200wpm)___ 291(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72822 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 364(@200wpm)___ 291(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
I opened my door, surprised yet unsurprised to find Ruthie, my wife’s—dead wife’s—best friend, standing on my doorstep.
Word had gotten out that I’d been at the office. I knew it was only a matter of time until she showed. But I supposed I hadn’t expected her to come over so soon.
I’d figured she’d give me more time to get settled, though.
Behind her was her husband, Sterling.
Sterling was a professional baseball player and looked to be sporting a beard that was likely due to playoffs being around the corner.
“Hey, man.” I offered my hand. “What are y’all doing here?”
Sterling took it and dropped it. The moment he did, Ruthie threw herself at me.
“I’m so mad at you right now.”
I hugged Ruthie, and something welled in my throat.
“I’m sorry.”
“I know.” She breathed out shakily. “I am, too. I’ve missed you like crazy.”
I didn’t know what to say to that.
I wasn’t ready to see her.
Wasn’t ready to do anything or see anyone that had to do with my wife. Not clean out her closet. Not call her best friend to make sure she was okay. Hell, I didn’t even stop paying the car insurance.
Why?
Because doing any of those things was admitting that she was gone, and I just wasn’t there yet.
“Come on in,” I ordered, opening the door.
Mary teetered up, her eyes wide and happy, as she welcomed the newcomers into her domain.
“Oh, D,” she breathed. “She’s beautiful.”
I looked at Mary, who’d started to follow me to the door but had been distracted by a butterfly—a fake one that Cobie had given her—on the couch.
“Yeah,” I murmured. “She’s pretty stinkin’ cute.”
Sterling grunted. “Got your hair.”
She did.
All of my kids always did.
Seemed the blond hair and blue eyes were dominant in my bloodline.
“She does,” I confirmed. “And my stubbornness. Mary, come here, girl, and meet Ruthie.”
Mary looked at Ruthie, grinned, but turned back to her butterfly.
“What’s she got?”
“A friend, Cobie, bought it for her,” I murmured. “At the grocery store. It’s one of those pencil toppers, but no way in hell was I giving her a pencil to stick it on top of. So, it’s just a toy for now.”
Before Ruthie could reply to that comment, though, my phone rang.
“Give me a second?” I asked.
Ruthie waved me away and went to Mary. Sterling, on the other hand, didn’t move.
He stayed exactly where he was and waited for me to take the call. Which I did.
“Rafe.”
“You better be glad that we put eyes on him, and then had his ass kicked out of that place.”
“Why?”
Now I was curious. Though, anything that had to do with Drake made me curious.
I didn’t like the guy, and never had.
My brother, Reed, had always been best friends with the stupid joke of a human being. But Drake never showed his true colors in front of Reed—at least not totally. He only showed them behind Reed’s back, and I fucking hated the douche more than life when he was hanging around.
Now, well, now it’d only gotten worse.
“Because Drake started to burn her motherfuckin’ house down. My guess is that he has insurance on it—renter’s insurance. He’d get a good chunk of change from it. That, and he stole whatever he was storing. Loaded it up with the tractor that likely belongs to Cobie, straight into a U-Haul. Shit’s at a warehouse. I’m thinking about giving an anonymous tip that there are drugs in it. They’ll bring out a K-9, and his ass’ll get busted.”
I knew he wouldn’t do that. Not when he wanted to know where the other stolen merchandise was.
But I did see him sharing an anonymous tip with the person Drake was ‘storing’ the belongings for, just to see what they’d do.
“Is he out now, though?”
I’d helped Cobie construct an excuse for her having to kick the poor bastard out of her house. I’d even gone to drop off the certified letter that would ensure he did, in fact, know about the upcoming eviction.
According to the post office, it’d been delivered two days later.
“Yep,” he confirmed. “Though, when the cops showed, he said he was burning trash. We couldn’t share stuff on our end without tipping our hand to the poor sod, though. So we chose to let it lie. Hopefully by doing so we didn’t shoot ourselves in the foot. We really need Drake to be found by his renters. That can’t happen with him in jail.”
No, it couldn’t.
“Anything you want me to do?”
“Nope,” Rafe instantly replied. “You just stay your ass where you’re at. I don’t want you to run your mouth and fuck my chances of finding out what’s happening related to my other case.”
I rolled my eyes. “Do you actually work at all?”
Rafe chuckled. “When I feel like it.”
I shook my head. “I saw you didn’t get paid but for fifteen hours last week. At least you’re not swindling me.”