More waiting, even if it’s only a day.Granted, I could probably use today to get some stuff done around the house, pick up groceries for the week—which I do every other Sunday—but I’m chomping at the bit to get going on this case.
“I’ll be there.Thanks, Buck.Appreciate the call.”
“You bet.See you tomorrow.”
I end the call and shove my phone in my pocket to continue sorting the laundry that has piled up in a mountain in front of the washing machine.Those damn kids just open the door to the laundry room and toss their dirty shit inside, like the room itself is a giant laundry basket.Every week I have to dig through piles of smelly clothes before I can even run the washer.I probably should be grateful they at least bring their own laundry downstairs, but it annoys me every week all the same.
Maybe a little more so this week, as I grumpily mutter expletives under my breath.
Haynes, the officer from Spokane County, already called me earlier to let me know he’ll have to wait for the dentist’s office to open tomorrow morning before he can get his hands on those dental records.He did send me through copies of the notes he took on Ryan Wells’s missing person case along with the file.It holds general information like Ryan’s physical description and notable markings, his interests, frequent hangouts, his high school, names of teachers and friends.It also contains a few comments and observations he seems to have jotted down while talking to a few of the names on his list.
All interesting stuff, but I can’t really do much until I know for sure the body I found is Ryan Wells.Of course, once we have his identity confirmed, I’ll hit the ground running, and who knows when I’ll next have a chance to make sure my kids have clean clothes to wear and food to eat in the house?So I’m holding off on digging into that file until I have my family taken care of.Maybe when I’m out for groceries, I can stop by the office to grab those files and do a bit of background snooping on social media with that list of names tonight.
But first there is also this thing with Remi I need to address.
Clem Tanek doesn’t strike me as the type to prey on kids, but the cop in me still went on high alert when I saw my boy getting out of his truck.I know it was raining cats and dogs, and logic dictates he just gave him a ride home, but Remi was moody and evasive when I caught him outside, so I confronted Clem for an explanation.
It was a good one, and as much as I wanted to see the man as a villain, what he said showed him to be a decent guy.Of course, still stung from his public and abrupt rejection at my boss’s wedding, I couldn’t leave well enough alone and added insult to injury by being an ungrateful bitch.If he didn’t hate me already, he sure as hell will now.
Serves me right for letting my hair down a little and drinking a few too many at the wedding, making me bold enough to act on an impulse.I’d noticed him all day, not bad on the eyes, and he seemed a quiet, well-liked guy with a great smile I wanted to see aimed at me.I thought I’d caught him checking me out a few times, but clearly that had been the alcohol talking, because he reacted to me like I had the plague.Sure, I was a bit forward in my approach, but he didn’t have to embarrass me like that.
Anyway, I need to have a talk with my son today as well, because by the time I’d put his bike in the garage and went inside last night, he’d already disappeared to his room with one of the pizzas, and I didn’t have the energy to confront him then.
“I need my new jeans for tonight.”
I turn around to find my eldest poking his head in the door.
“Is that a fact?”I ask sarcastically.
His response is to flash me a grin.That handsome, easy charm of his is a persuasive tool on most, but I’d like to think I’m immune.
“Remember?I’m going over to Naomi’s house for dinner, I need to look presentable.”
His grin spreads wider.
“You can smile all you like, but that won’t make the laundry go any faster than it does.It also doesn’t change the fact you’ve known you were going for days and could’ve easily thrown your jeans in the washer yourself.It’s not rocket science.”
“Aww, Mom, pretty please?”
I ignore the dramatic batting of a set of eyelashes that are way too long to be legal on a man-child.That too has long since stopped working on me.
“It’ll get done when it gets done,” I firmly announce, turning my back.
Still, when he disappears from the door, I quickly shove the whites load I’d planned to do first to the side and load the darks in the washer.
What can I say, I’m a sucker.
Now that I have laundry going, I focus my attention on the state of the fridge and the pantry.The first holds little more than a cheese wrapper and an empty milk carton, and the last boasts a collection of empty boxes.I grind my teeth, and rather than yelling at the kids—again—for not clearing away the empties, I swallow my frustration and toss them in the recycling bin in the garage myself.It takes less energy than trying to lecture my boys into doing it.I know I’m not teaching them anything, and that I’m probably giving myself an ulcer in the process, but there are many battles to pick from, and today this is not top on my list.
That would be Remi.
Armed with a half-finished grocery list, I head upstairs ten minutes later and knock on his door.
“What?”
Obviously, sleeping half the day away hasn’t done his attitude one bit of good.Not waiting for an invitation I won’t be getting anyway, I push open the door.Remi is sitting up in bed, on his phone, and scowls in my direction.
“I’m heading out to get groceries.Did you need anything specific?”
