Page 8 of The Pushy Pixies Are Going Down
The try-to-murder-your-humans-then-look-at-them-with-innocent-and-cute-eyes club.
Seriously, their cuteness could get them out of any trouble.
I finally reached the bottom with all my limbs intact, but froze when I glanced toward the front door.
Right there, on the little table, was a manila envelope.
Themanila envelope.
Blowing out a frustrated breath, I walked over to it and snatched it up. Leaving it there wasn’t going to do me any favors because now that I saw it, I couldn’t help but wonder what was inside.
Before I could open it, Odin let out a loud pathetic-sounding meow, and I glanced down at him. He was clearly telling me to hurry my ass up because he needed to be fed.Right now.
I bent to pet him, then walked into the kitchen to prepare food for Odin and Sola.
I got them fed and watered quickly. Sola stood on her perch in the living room where her food bowl was. I needed to get another perch for the dining room. And one for the kitchen. She needed to have somewhere to land in every room so she was comfortable in our home.
Hm. Maybe I could look online for a variety of perches. I was pretty sure I’d already bought the two biggest ones from the local pet store. I supposed I could call them and see if they’d ordered more.
That was a later me problem.
Somehow, even after all the animal food prep, I still had the damn folder tucked under my arm. Apparently, I was doing this thing.
But first, cereal.
I opened my pantry, grabbed my favorite cereal from the very top shelf, and froze when I went to shut it. With a sigh, I grabbed the bag of large marshmallows, frowning at it as I shut the pantry door with my foot and held the bag over the trash can. Damn. It was open, which meant the marshmallows were probably hard as rocks by now, and I didn’t want to risk eating them since I definitely hadn’t opened this package yet.
As I dropped it in the trash, I couldn’t help but wonder how it’d been opened. Maybe it was like that when I got it, and I hadn’t noticed it. Crap, now I kinda wanted a marshmallow.Boo. Maybe I could pick some up after work or something.
With a shrug, I grabbed a bowl, a spoon, and the milk, then sat at the dining table with my loot.
I quickly fixed my cereal, then opened the envelope, pulling a manila folder out with a sigh.
Okay.
I was doing this.
I was going to help Higgins with a case.
My heart was in my throat, but I opened the folder anyway.
Chapter Three
Miles
The first thing I saw was a picture of Paul Ferguson. Even in the photograph, he looked like a typical slimeball. Greasy dark hair, dark eyes that looked like they were hiding a thousand secrets, and a strange smirk on his face.
This was a damn mugshot, for crying out loud.
Why the hell was he smirking?
What a creep.
I flipped the page and read the charges for dear old Paul.
A few counts of burglary—anywhere from a few misdemeanors to something that cost him five years in prison. Several counts of assault and battery. And even a carjacking.
Wow, what a catch.
