“Dunn?”
“Hey, Cap. How ya doing?”
“Well, it’s ten fucking o’clock and I’m currently trying to sleep,” he grumbles. “What do you want?”
Uh-oh. Someone’s a little cranky.“So, do we happen to have any patrol free tonight that we can send over to the May house?”
“What the fuck are you on about?”
“Hannah May, the girl involved with the active CMA investigation,” I explain, because he clearly doesn’t remember jack shit. “Some calls got her pretty rattled today, and I think she’d feel safer if we can put a car on her house.”
“Did someone threaten her directly?”
“Well . . . no, not exactly . . .”
“Is she giving out her address on these calls you’re tapping?” he fusses.
I sigh. “No.”
“Then, no. I don’t have a fucking free patrol car to go sit at her house. Dammit, Dunn, it’s like this is your first day on the job. Is that all?”
“Yeah, Captain,” I say. “Sorry to bother you.”
The call ends without a goodbye, and I pull the phone down from my ear and open it back up to my messages with Hannah.
Oh my God, I do really think that would help. At least for tonight. I seriously appreciate it so much.
Her hope is palpable. Too palpable, frankly.
Well, shit. Looks like I’m calling it an early night.
17
Hannah
Friday, May 17
8:00 a.m.
As I wet my toothbrush under the faucet, I peek out my bathroom window and spot the shiny black Camaro that arrived at my house around ten last night, still sitting at the end of my long driveway. It’s unmarked, but after my conversation with Dom last night, I know it’s MNPD. Plus, I’ve seen him driving a similar car before.
Relief trickles through me as I remember how he promised to send someone to keep watch over us. Knowing there’s someone out there has me feeling safer than I have in weeks.
I turn back to my sink and finish brushing my teeth, spitting and rinsing before replacing my toothbrush in its holder.
I pull my long brown hair up in front of my shoulders, fluff some volume into it, and smear some light-pink gloss across my mouth to finish the look.
After exiting my bathroom and turning out the light behind me, I grab my phone from my nightstand and slide my rings onto my fingers. Then I make my way into the kitchen, where Lovie stands at the counter, drinking a cup of coffee. My mom sits on the couch in frontof the TV, her hair done, her makeup in place, and her look finished with a smart button-up shirt.
Ever since I was a little girl, she has been the type of woman who never lounged around in her pajamas or skipped any of her hygiene practices. Even with her mind fogged with Alzheimer’s, a lot of that is still muscle memory. It just takes a little reminding and encouraging from Lovie and me.
And it’s worth the effort. My mother’s state of mind thrives when she’s sticking to her usual routine, even if she doesn’t always remember the specific steps.
“Morning, Lovie,” I greet her, my mood much improved from yesterday thanks to the sleep I got last night. Having the patrol car Dom sent over sitting in front of the house was incredibly boosting for my peace of mind.
It felt like I could finally just relax, and for the first time in several weeks, my shoulders aren’t tensed right beneath my ears.
“Hey, Hannah Banana.” Lovie gives my jeans and off-the-shoulder lilac shirt a smiling once-over. “Boy, you look pretty today. Look a lot more like you’re feeling yourself too. I’m glad.”
