We got a confession in less than thirty minutes, and Henderson has already been booked. The DA will be pressing charges, and he’ll be going away for a long, long time. I glance up at the whiteboard with Anne’s DMV photo.
Twenty years old.
She’d barely begun to live before her life was stolen from her.
But at least her killer will be brought to justice. And while that won’t bring her back, it’s a win for sure.
Just like Beckett’s victory is a win for those families.
My thoughts drift back to her again. To the woman I haven’t been able to stop thinking about since the moment she first strolled into my precinct, nearly blowing a hole through the undercover case I was trying to salvage.
It was my last one, and while everything had worked out in the end, she’d threatened to tear it apart because I’d arrested a friend of hers on murder. Turns out he was innocent, but since it introduced me to her, I couldn’t be too upset that I’d been wrong.
I can still see her—bright red lipstick, dark eyes that bored straight through me. Man, what will it take for me to get her out of my head?
We’re on two opposite sides of the country, and she has absolutely no reason to ever step foot in Washington again. So why am I so hung up on her that I can’t even find the interest totryand date anyone else?
Probably because I keep looking into her life and celebrating her wins clear across the country.
Frustrated with myself, I return my attention to the paperwork at hand. As I finish it up, I do my best to shove all thoughts of Beckett Wallace out of my mind.
Hopefully, forever.
3.Beckett
Still groggy from sleep, I sit up on the edge of the bed and bow my head, a smile on my face.Thank You, Lord, for this day. Please guide me so I use it according to Your will. Amen.After stretching, I grab my phone and notice an unread text message notification on the screen.
With a yawn, I open it up and cringe when I see a message from Larry.
Larry: I can forgive you for hanging up on me yesterday, given our interactions recently. But I really do intend to get you to go on a date. People don’t tell me no : ) And I will wear you down. Talk soon.
“No,” I say out loud as I delete the message. “No, no, no. Absolutely not.” I continue repeating it as I all but stumble toward the kitchen to make some coffee.
After that, it’s breakfast. I completely skipped eating last night since it took all of my energy to shower and climb into bed, but my stomach is already growling for sustenance. Unfortunately, I haven’t been grocery shopping in who knowshow long, and aside from coffee, I only have a bottle of cream in the fridge.
So coffee, food, then all of the errands I’ve been putting off.
So.
Many.
Errands.
Starting with the insane number of suits and skirts I need to drop off at the dry cleaners. As I’m walking toward the kitchen, a manila envelope on the floor catches my eye.
“What are you doing there?” I ask aloud as though it can answer me.Did it fall out of my briefcase?But when I glance over at where I left that near the door, it’s still closed.
So how did it get there?
The way it’s positioned, it could have been slid beneath the door, so before I open it, I head into the kitchen for plastic bags to use as makeshift gloves. It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve gotten a death threat to my house, and with the high-profile case I just won, it certainly wouldn’t be surprising.
I could call the police and wait for them to open it, but if I do that and it’s not a threat, I’m going to feel absolutely ridiculous.
After slipping my hands into the plastic bags, I gently press down on the envelope to check to see if there are any strange bulges. When there are none, I lift it and undo the metal clasp keeping it closed.
Once it’s open, I turn it upside down on the counter, and a single sheet of paper falls out. I set the envelope aside and turn the page over to reveal a photograph. The moment my gaze settles on the image, my stomach twists into knots, and my heart begins to pound.
Abandoning the makeshift gloves, I rush toward my front door and rip it open, looking for any sign of the person who might have left it. When I don’t see them, I grab my keys off thehook and race out without bothering to lock up as I sprint down the steps.
