Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 71625 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 358(@200wpm)___ 287(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71625 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 358(@200wpm)___ 287(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
Then I placed the headphones on the table with the receipt.
Winnifred swallowed.
Why really wasn’t any of my business, but when a teenage kid—one belonging to a cop at that—made the decision to steal, I kinda wanted to know why.
And she wasn’t an exception.
Technically, she didn’t have to tell me anything. Then again, I could’ve just as easily taken the kid to jail rather than to her mother’s.
“Winnifred…”
“Winnie,” she corrected, then sighed. “As for why, well…that’s a long story.”
“I’m more than up to hearing it.”
And I was, too. I really, really wanted to know, although I really wasn’t sure why the hell that was.
Winnie looked down at her hands and then sighed. “I don’t have time. I have to be at work in a few minutes.” She looked torn. “And…” she shook her head, looking sick to her stomach. “I’m sorry.”
The tears in her eyes were what convinced me to let her go and not push her, so I did.
I tipped my hat—a simple black ball cap that said ‘MPD’ on it—and turned to walk away.
I did notice, however, that she watched me go the entire way.
I walked down the badly-in-need-of-a-mow front lawn, and straight to my cruiser in the driveway, not once turning around. I was damn proud of myself.
It was soft, sweet women like her, with their hearts in their eyes, that were the most trouble. I, too, had a soft spot…one that was hell when you were also a cop. One that had always been there, and always would be there, thanks to one particular girl—one just like the trouble-making Conleigh—whom I’d met during one of my first weeks on the job. One who was, I thought, just a pain in the ass. One who, weeks after I tried to set her straight, was killed by her father because I had brought her home drunk.
Shaking off my morose thoughts, I opened the door to my cruiser and got in.
Once I was settled, I called Fender.
“Yo,” he answered.
“You know the neighbor across the street from me?”
“The one with the two kids?”
“Yeah,” I confirmed. “Those.”
“A little, why?”
“Her husband—ex-husband—is Matt Holyfield from work. Do you know what happened to her? The last time I saw her, she was running fucking marathons.”
And she had been. Winnie Holyfield had been a goddamn record breaker. She ran marathons all over the world before she’d gotten married to Matt. It’d been a big deal when she’d lined up for a ten-kilometer race in a benefit for the president of our motorcycle club, the Dixie Wardens, better known as the Dixie Warden Rejects.
Stone had died unexpectedly, and to help cover funeral expenses for his wife, the town had held a ten-kilometer race. Winnie Holyfield had shown up, and she hadn’t been alone. She’d brought a ton of her friends. Her tons of friends who had told their tons of friends, and then suddenly, our little ten-kilometer race had turned into a fucking benefit the size of which I’d never seen.
The ten-kilometer race had turned into a half-marathon from there, and it’d gotten a ton of media coverage. And when I say a ton, I mean a fucking ton. The race had more than covered funeral expenses for our president. His wife, Mei, hadn’t had to shell out a single dime.
Not that she was going to anyway.
I had planned to pay for it. All of it.
But I hadn’t needed to thanks to her.
Winnie.
Fender made a sound in his throat, and then clicked with his teeth.
“I think she had a spinal stroke,” he said. “I remember hearing something about it at work. She’s okay, though, right?”
I thought back to the walker I’d seen her using, then made a sound in the back of my throat. “I guess so. She’s using a walker, though.”
“Why do you ask?”
“Because she’s my neighbor?” I offered up the obvious.
Even though that really wasn’t the reason why. I was just a curious bastard that wanted to know more about the beautiful woman I’d seen.
The beautiful woman with her long, flowing auburn hair, her bright green eyes, and strong, muscular legs.
Legs that looked like they’d been in even better shape once upon a time.
She had generous breasts, a perfect figure that made my dick hard, and a ‘don’t get near me’ vibe that I’d felt the moment her eyes landed on mine.
“Got it,” he said. “I’ll ask Audrey if she knows more. I think she said something about working with her, but I’m not quite sure.”
Audrey was Fender’s wife, and she was a nurse at the county hospital. If Winnie worked there, that meant she was a medical professional of some kind.
I knew she wasn’t a PA or a doctor. Otherwise her kid wouldn’t have to be stealing right now to resort to getting new headphones.
A nurse, maybe?
Whatever it was, I wasn’t sure. But I damn sure was going to find out.