Total pages in book: 120
Estimated words: 111860 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 559(@200wpm)___ 447(@250wpm)___ 373(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 111860 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 559(@200wpm)___ 447(@250wpm)___ 373(@300wpm)
She didn’t know what else to say to him, so instead she just sat there, watching the sun rise higher in the sky and picturing his face, forever young and beautiful.
“Good morning,” she said to Adella as she took off her coat and hung it on the back of her chair. Adella gave her a nervous glance, her gaze going over Lennon’s head right before she heard Lieutenant Byrd’s voice behind her.
“Gray, can I see you in my office?”
“Sure,” she murmured. What the hell was going on? She looked back at Adella, but she had already turned back to her computer screen.
Lennon followed Lieutenant Byrd to his office and closed the door behind her. “What’s up?” she asked.
“Do you know who he is?”
Lennon sat down slowly on the chair in front of the lieutenant’s desk. “Do I know who who is?”
“Ambrose Mars.”
She gave her head a small shake. “You told me he’s an FBI agent here to work the ‘BB’ pill case with me.”
“Well, he’s not. He’s not an FBI agent, and apparently that’s not his real name either. Ambrose Mars doesn’t exist.”
The internal alarm bells started slowly at first and then swelled into a clanging symphony. “I’m sorry, what?”
“He walked away from another scene yesterday and took a handful of evidence with him. When I called the field office in Pleasant Hill, where he supposedly came from, I discovered there’s no one there by that name.”
She felt dizzy and like she might puke. What the fuck was going on? There had been another scene yesterday? Why hadn’t anyone called her?
“He doesn’t fucking exist,” the lieutenant practically spat out.
Doesn’t exist. But he most certainly did exist. He’d been in her apartment. He’d been in her parents’ home. He’d kissed her naked breasts, for Christ’s sake. He was inside my body. God, she felt like she might be hyperventilating. He’d been lying to her? Posing as an FBI agent? She pressed her fingers to her temples, as if trying to stop her brain from misinterpreting the words the lieutenant was saying to her.
“This is a catastrophe,” Lieutenant Byrd said. “Someone infiltrated the SFPD, stole three case files and crime scene evidence, and then up and disappeared.”
“How, though?” she asked, her voice a mere croak. “I thought the call came down from the chief’s office. They . . . sent him here.” Someone called. They’d said he was good with the down-and-out. And he was. He’d seemed empathetic. He’d seemed . . .
“The call came from the right number, so there’s either someone working with him internally or they managed to get hold of technology to make it look like the right number. It’s being investigated with the utmost fervor.” He paused. “They’re looking at you, too, Lennon.”
“Me?” she asked, the outrage that was beginning to spark inside her clear in her voice. He’d lied to her. He’d used her.
“He was at your house a few nights ago. After hours.”
What? How did the lieutenant know that, if it wasn’t him who’d given Ambrose her address like she’d assumed? Then she remembered the call. The bruise cream.
Adella. She’d ratted her out and made it look like Lennon was part of some scam the fake agent was running? She felt like tearing someone’s eyes out and collapsing in tears. “He came over, supposedly to check on me after my attack.” He brought me watermelon stars and held me in his arms. Those sparks ignited into flames, anger burning away the tears that had threatened to fall moments ago.
“Well, regardless, Internal is taking this extremely seriously. They want you at their offices right away. And Lennon, I’m sorry, but you’ll need to turn in your gun and badge.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
Your pain is the breaking of the shell that encloses your understanding.
—Kahlil Gibran
Seventeen Years Ago
Patient Number 0022
The sun grew dim, the warmth abated, but still Jett walked, following that elegant bird as it dipped and rose, its head turning now and again to make sure he wasn’t lost.
Don’t be afraid, it told him, speaking in some way he didn’t know how to explain, delivering messages straight into his head.
The scent of pine increased, and then something else met his nose, mixed with the smells of the earth and the air. Animals.
Sheep. Pigs. Goats.
He moaned and gripped his head as acid fear rained down, penetrating his skin and melting his bones.
Feathers. He felt feathers on his cheek, ruffling over his neck, and he gasped, turning slightly to see the dove sitting on his shoulder. The dove let out a cooing sound, tilting her head and rubbing it on Jett’s jaw. Back. Forth. Back. Forth. Thud, thud, thud. His hammering heart slowed; air filled his hollow lungs.
Feel your feet on the ground. Feel the air on your skin. Feel the beating of your heart within your chest.
The dove flapped her wings, and he felt the press of her feet as she pushed off his shoulder and flew into the air, swooping and soaring. Free.