“Sariah,” I groaned. “Things are peaceful between us now.”
She rolled her eyes. “Snore. Plus, we both know it’s worth the makeup sex. And I’m not going to put you in any danger. I never would. We’re just going to put some fire under some asses. Unless you’re already a boring old soccer mom, then fine…” she trailed off, inspecting her nails.
The bitch knew how to get to me. “Fine,” I huffed, standing up. “But Elden can’t know.”
“ I promise,” she rubbed her hands together. “We’ll be as quiet as church mice.”
We had been planning on going in there to ask some questions. Innocent questions. We certainly hadn’t planned on getting into any trouble.
But Sariah was there. I was there. We got a little angry.
Trouble happened.
ChapterTwenty-Four
The police stationitself was small, well maintained, quiet. Which made sense. The town of Garnett wasn’t exactly wild with crime.
I’d not so much as been pulled over for a speeding ticket. And I did speed. A lot. Elden yelled at me about it all the time.
I ignored him all the time.
The lobby of the station itself was the same as the outside, clean, quiet. There was one officer behind some plexiglass who looked up when we walked in. He did not look back down at whatever he was doing. His tongue was practically wagging as we approached.
Which made sense. I mean, I guessed I looked okay. My jeans were tight and showed of my mid-section in the crop top I was wearing. I planned on wearing jeans as much as possible and showing off my flat stomach as much as possible before it stopped being flat and my jeans stopped fitting. As it was, they were pretty fucking tight right now. My tits were also almost double the size, which Elden loved. My stomach was mostly flat but there was a definite swell. Especially after I had a big lunch. I’d only just started feeling well enough to eat lunch, though.
It was likely Sariah who had the officer’s tongue wagging. She was wearing tailored, pinstriped pants and a matching vest without anything underneath. Her hair was piled on top of her head, she was wearing square framed glasses and bright red lipstick. In other words, she’d gone full Erin Brockovich.
“Can I help you?” the officer asked enthusiastically. He wasn’t much older than us, wore thick glasses and his nose had been broken one too many times. He worked it, though, in a nerdy Owen Wilson kind of way.
Sariah beamed, leaning on the counter in front of the plexiglass so her considerable cleavage was on display. “I sure hope so,” she drawled, fluttering her lashes.
“Oh my god,” I muttered from behind her, grinning.
Her head whipped around, and she mouthed, “Fuck off,”before returning her attention to the desk jockey.
“I’m here because I’m a journalist,” she continued.
I snorted at that.
She flipped me the bird behind her back.
“And I’m investigating the murders that have been happening in the area over the past few months.”
“Murders?” the officer repeated.
Sariah’s megawatt smile dimmed. “There have been four young women brutally murdered within fifty miles of this town in the past eight months.”
He scratched his head. “Well, that’s not our jurisdiction.”
“Not your jurisdiction?” she parroted. “So you don’t have to know about them, then, as an officer of the law?”
“We are aware of the situation and monitoring it,” a deep, smooth voice commented from my left.
Both Sariah and I had not noticed the police officer in our periphery who had obviously heard the gist of the conversation.
The man in question was in a uniform that was pressed immaculately and showed off his lean muscles. He was tall, maybe Elden’s age though his hair was styled slick, and he was clean shaven, showing off a tan, square jaw. He had brown eyes that were so dark they were almost black.
“And who might you be?” Sariah asked.