Page 98 of Captivating Anika

“I tried calling her a few times but she didn’t pick up. Then I saw your pickup parked outside, thought she was driving it and hoped she’d be here.”

I immediately get out my phone and dial her number, which goes straight to voicemail. As I try again, I ask Evans, “What do you need her for?”

“Livingston called me. The FBI just received records from Christopher Cooper’s cell phone provider. Most providers don’t retain the actual content of text messages, but they do keep a record of when, to whom, and from whom messages are sent. They found several message exchanges with a number that comes back to a prepaid phone. That prepaid phone was purchased online at Walmart and traced to Anika’s credit card.”

I surge to my feet and lean into the detective’s space.

“Like fucking hell it is,” I snap.

“Easy, Hog,” Chief soothes, standing as well and putting a hand on my arm. “Hear the man out.”

Evans’s eyes on me are steady. “She keeps her purse in the unlocked drawer of her desk in her unlocked office at the Chop Shop. Think about it. Wouldn’t have been difficult for someone else to get to it.”

I’m fucking thinking about it and the blood is running cold in my veins.

Abruptly, I shrug off the chief’s hand and shove past Evans, almost knocking over the server with our basket of wings as I head for the door.

Evans is right behind me when I rush outside. He grabs me by the arm and swings me around.

“Fucking talk to me, Hog.”

“Oxbow Park. That’s where she is,” I tell him, my heart beating in my throat. “She’s meeting the girls from work.”

“Fuck,” Bill curses under his breath. “Come on. We’re taking mine.”

His police cruiser is parked right out front. I don’t argue and get in on the passenger side.

Evans running his lights and blowing through downtown Durango is the only thing making me feel fractionally better.

He’s not messing around either.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Anika

I’m in shock.

I must be, because I can’t seem to process what is happening.

“Move,” the menacing voice growls behind me when I almost fall, stumbling through the underbrush.

I don’t need to turn around to know who it belongs to, no matter how hard I try to convince myself it must be someone else. I’d rather not have known, the taste of betrayal coating my throat and almost too thick to swallow. That’s why my voice is rough when I try to speak.

“I don’t understand.”

“You wouldn’t,” she sneers. “You’re so far up your own ass you need a flashlight to see.”

She lets go of my hair and gives me a shove between my shoulder blades. I stumble out of the brush and onto a rocky outcropping jutting into the river. Here the rapids are fast and swollen from the winter runoff.

Part of me doesn’t want to turn around, doesn’t want to see confirmation of the level of deception I’ve been subjected to. God knows for how long.

But I also don’t want to be blind to what is coming.

“What have I ever done to you?” I ask, as I swing around.

She’s standing a few feet away, the gun trained on me in steady hands. She scoffs at my question.

“You have everything!” she suddenly yells, startling me. “Born with fucking shamrocks up your ass. Family who dotes on you, spoils you rotten. You’ve never known a hard day in your life. Do you have any idea what it costs me to have to see your fucking face every fucking day and pretend I like you?”

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