Chapter 20
It’d been nearly six weeks since anything new about Slade had come to light, and Krista was losing her mind.
Wendy’s roommate was representing them, but according to Stella, attorney at law, there was a process to these kinds of things, and all the paperwork needed to be filed.
They were still trying to get in touch with the women at Myles’s former detachments too.
Stella figured the more evidence and statements they gathered, the harsher the sentence.
But Krista was getting antsy. Brock had asked her to lay low and she’d complied, but it was getting more difficult to not take matters into her own hands as the days ticked by.
Valentine’s Day had come and gone, and the first day of spring was just days around the corner.
Slade was still slinking around the station, popping up like a creepy weed that stinks, stings and chokes the life out of all the other plants around it.
He made “kill” eyes at Krista whenever he could, but otherwise he’d been staying away.
Allie had officially gone on light duty as well, so she and Krista spent every free minute they had digging into Myles Slade any way they could.
From stalking his social media to carefully mentioning his predatory ways around the water cooler, they were on the hunt.
Hunting a predator.
Thankfully, things between Krista and Brock were going well.
She was so over having chaos in every realm of her life that the fact that her “love life” finally seemed to be on the upswing was a serious plus.
After their date night and evening with the ottoman, things seemed to fall into a comfortable and pleasant routine between the two of them.
He was attentive and slowly opening up, and she was as horny as ever, ready and willing to jump his bones the moment she walked in the door. It was the perfect relationship.
“Can you explain to me why Heath’s truck has dual tires on the back, while the rest of the Harty boy fleet only have single tires?
” Krista asked one night as she and Brock were lying in bed.
They were both a tad breathless, and Krista’s ass stung like a bitch, so now it was time for pillow talk.
Their new deal was, if she let him be in charge, he had to give her fifteen minutes of pillow talk afterward where she could ask him questions and had to open up.
She didn’t normally like relinquishing the control, but it was definitely nice getting to know him. Plus, the man was really coming into his own with that flogger.
“Because my baby brother is immature, and his vehicle is proof of that,” Brock said with a yawn.
Krista wrinkled her nose. “Meaning … ”
“Meaning, he has the biggest dick and therefore needs the biggest truck because he is the biggest dick.”
“H—” She scrunched up her nose again and spun onto her side to face him. “How do you guys know he’s the biggest?”
Brock rolled his eyes. “You’re having my baby. Don’t be fantasizing about my little brother’s big dick. It’s not that much bigger.”
Krista scoffed. “That’s not what I meant. I meant, like, did you get them all out and measure?”
He made a face as if he’d just sucked on a lime. “No. We’ve obviously measured before. Wrote the measurements down and put them in a hat.”
Oh, okay. That made sense. It was still weird, particularly to Krista, who had just the one brother. If she’d had a sister, would they have compared breast sizes? She didn’t know. Men were weird.
“I’m driving around in a big penis truck?”
“Yep.” He yawned and rolled over to face her, pushing her over to her other side in the process. He scooted in behind her and cuddled up close. Spring was in the air, but it was still damp and cool outside. The cuddling was welcome.
“I’m not sure how I feel about that.”
“It’s not for much longer. Heath will be back soon. And then we’ll get you a new car.”
“I want a truck.”
His chuckle ruffled the hair at the nape of her neck.
“A big beefy black one.”
“We’ll see,” he said softly, pulling her tight.
“Or maybe a white one. Show less dirt. The yin to your yang.”
“You are that,” he replied sleepily. His hand cupped her breast gently before traveling down her abdomen to the swell of her belly.
“Sleep now. More sex and questions tomorrow.” His lips found her neck, and it was if he knew exactly where the button was, because she sighed instantly, her eyes closed, she melted into him and was asleep in seconds.
It was just after lunch on a Friday, and Krista was itching to get home. Brock had brought out the flogger again the night before, and a delightful tingle on her backside was a pleasant reminder all day.
She sat down at her desk, a fresh cup of decaf Earl Grey tea in hand, when she noticed her phone flashing. She’d left it on her desk when she stepped out to go and grab a sandwich for lunch.
One missed message. One voicemail. It was from Marlise.
She punched in her code and listened.
“Krista, hey. You’ll never guess the shit Wendy and I uncovered. We know why Wicks lets Slade get away with murder. The shit Myles has on the staff sergeant is huge. Call me back ASA—” Then the message cut out.
Krista replayed it three more times, hoping to hear a background noise or another voice or something to give a clue as to why Marlise’s message cut out early, but she heard nothing.
It made sense in some ways. Marlise wasn’t dumb enough to be leaving a message like that out for anyone to overhear.
She was probably home or in her car or the empty locker room or something.
Maybe someone came in and she didn’t want them to hear.
Wrinkling her nose in confusion and about to call Marlise back, a text message from Wendy pinged her phone just as Krista put it to her ear.
“Hey! We’ve got news on Slade and Wicks. Meet Marlise and me at your old place ASAP.”
Krista texted her back right away. “Awesome. I just got the message from Marlise. Why my old place?”
It was roughly five minutes before she got a reply. Five long minutes.
Wendy: “Privacy. Come now.”
What the hell? That wasn’t like Wendy at all. If anything, they’d all go back to the Ogden Point coffee shop to discuss things. It was out of their jurisdiction and in a public place. Something was up.
She texted back. “Are you okay?”
Wendy: “Come NOW!”
It had to be a setup. Fuck. Had Wicks gone to Myles and let him know what was going on? Did Myles or Wicks find out they’d all been investigating them? Had Stella filed anything to alert Myles they were on to him? Did Myles have her friends? Did Wicks? Or was this a setup to get her alone?
Either way, she had to go. If her friends were in trouble, she couldn’t just leave them.
She called Brock as she headed out to her car, but there was no answer. She sent a mass text to all the Harty Boys about the call and text, swung her belly behind the steering wheel and peeled out of the police station parking lot.
At her old place, Marlise’s sporty little Honda Civic sat around back where Krista used to park her car. There were no other vehicles around. Her old landlords must be out. But where was Myles’s car? Was it a setup after all?
She quietly shut the door of Heath’s penis truck, drew her gun and made her way toward the house.
Instead of going straight for the front door, she snuck around back to do a bit of recon.
The blinds were all closed. Had she done that before she left last time?
Had Mrs. Geller? She was going in blind.
Slowly, she crept around the house, careful not to let the gravel crunch under her shoes. She paused next to the living room window for the suite and held her breath, hoping to hear something—anything.
Should she text Marlise?
No.
If it was a setup that would give her away.
Making her way around the house to the Gellers’ front door, she tried the knob.
They rarely locked it. It was open and she let herself inside, once again careful not to let her footsteps make any noise.
She padded softly over to the vent on the floor in their dining room that she knew was situated directly over her living room.
Kneeling down, she put her ear to the floor.
Nothing.
Fuck.
If it was just Wendy and Marlise they’d definitely be talking.
But maybe Wendy hadn’t arrived yet and Marlise was just sitting down there quietly playing on her phone.
“Hey there, darling!” came a whisper from the living room.
Krista jumped where she knelt and spun around only to see Collette, the Gellers’ African grey parrot, bobbing her head in her cage.
“Hey there, darling. Hey there, darling. Lookin’ good. Lookin’ good.”
Krista shook her head and let out a phew. Her heart beat a million miles a minute and her stomach was in knots. “Don’t do that, Collette. Not cool,” she whispered.
The bird squawked. “Not cool. Not cool.”
“Shut the fuck up,” Krista gritted out.
“Shut the fuck up. Shut the fuck up. Shut the fuck up,” Collette mimicked.
Krista growled low in her throat, shot the bird a dirty look and then put her ear back next to the vent.
Collette skittered along her perch, knocked her bell and then skittered back. “I want Wonder Bread, Joyce. None of that multigrain shit,” she said. “Multigrain shit. Multigrain shit. Hey there, sexy.”
For fuck’s sake. Krista was about to get up and go throw the sheet over the stupid bird’s cage when the heavy stomp of a boot behind her on the wood floor caused her to pause. The cool steel barrel of a gun pressed hard against her temple.
“So lovely of you to join us.”
That voice. It would haunt her every day for the rest of her life.
Hands up, she turned around to face him.
His smile was disgusting. Full of triumph. He thought he’d won.