Page 73 of Hunted, Season Three

“Do you haveanyidea howmiserableit feels not knowing whether they’redeadoralive?”

It takes every urge in me not to smirk.

She deserves this.

She deserves this and so much more for what she let her son do and for whatever the fuck shehelpedhim do to Rabbit.

We don’t talk much about it.

But we know it’s bad.

Disturbingly bad.

“No, ma’am, I do not.”

“Then don’t youdaretry to tell me you understand my feelings.”

He gingerly lifts his hands in surrender a second time.“I didn’t mean any disrespect, Mrs.McAdams.”

“It seems that’sallyou’ve done since I’ve been in this godforsaken shit hole.”

There isn’t time for him to respond.

“I gave you clear and conciseevidencethat he came here-”

“You gave me circumstantial evidence at best, ma’am,” Post surprisingly corrects.

“I provided you with statements from witnesses indicatingthiswas his destination.”

“Yes, but the online investigation we conducted indicates it was not.”

“His car was located at a lot just one town over!”

“Which happens more often than one might realize.”All of a sudden, he gives me a small nudge.“Tell her, Nolan.You do most of the towin’ around here.”

At that her vision slowly cuts to me.

Slices.

Dices.

Does everything it can to intimidate me more than likely aware of who I am.

“Oh?”Her light eyebrows critically lift.“Is that so?”

Despite her efforts, my position nor demeanor shifts.“Yes.”

“Didyoutow my son’s car?”

“I’m unaware of who your son is, and I’m also unaware of the date you’re questioning as you have not mentioned one.”

The corner of her lip twitches in the slightest.“Brad.”

Just the sound of that asshole’s name feels like a screwdriver between the ribs.

“Brad.McAdams.”

“Doesn’t ring a bell,” emotionlessly leaves me.

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