Page 42 of Tapped

“For fuck’s sake,” I mutter. “I need to study the report. You’re welcome for the networking opportunity.”

“I read it before I sent it over. It’s as good as a cold case at this point. You’re going to need a whole lot more information to prove someone fucked with that car.”

“Look who’s talking like an investigator when all he wants to do is kick in doors.”

“I didn’t say I wasn’t smart enough to promote, I said I didn’t want to. Wish I could chit-chat longer, but unlike you, I have a life outside of work. I might or might not see you at casa de Cruz.”

I take a swig. “I’m surprised you don’t live with them the way Landyn likes to mother you.”

“You’re jealous. Brax might be your person, but Landyn is mine. It’s not my fault she secretly hates you.”

I’ve had enough. “Thanks for the report. Be careful and watch your back.”

“Always.”

I hang up and crack open my laptop to pull up the report. Everything is exactly how Evie described.

But damn, the pictures.

They’re gruesome.

Whoever did this almost completed their task. Her car was a mangled pile of metal. Chase’s car seat did its job and was still banged up despite it being the only spot in the car that was pretty much untouched since it was in the middle.

The protein shake I just downed sours in my gut as I look over the pictures a second time. The investigating officers questioned her in the hospital, but there was nothing to go on. I can’t imagine what she went through.

The car hadn’t been serviced or been in the shop prior to the event. It was parked in the hospital parking garage when she was there to see a patient before she picked up her son. The car was logged into the garage for over an hour that day, but there’s no video surveillance in the file or mention that it was pulled.

The entire thing was written off as a technical issue. No suspicion of foul play was ever noted in the report.

I know a lot of Miami officers. We work in the same circles and some are assigned to our office, but I don’t recognize this investigator.

It happened more than six months ago. There’s no way that video is still around from the hospital parking garage. I’ll call the detective tomorrow to see if he looked into it but just didn’t include it in the report since there was nothing to see.

I toss my laptop to the side and lean my head back to close my eyes. Missing a night’s sleep and attending a funeral is an exhausting cocktail. I should go to bed and sleep it off.

Evie sat glued to my side for the entire service. I’ve never seen anyone that composed and emotional at the same time. It feels like the woman wears armor but could implode within it at any moment.

My head is all over the place today.

Funerals.

Hannah.

And my fascination with a married woman.

Granted, she won’t be married for much longer. I have a feeling that only fascinates me more.

This isn’t exactly the Friday night of years past. But it’s the weekend. Tomorrow, I’ll hit the gym and start over with a clear head.

I drag a hand down my face and am about to give up when my phone vibrates on the sofa next to me.

It’s like she can read my mind from her posh neighborhood on the other side of Miami.

Interesting.

Evita – Thank you.

Evita – For today. You know, the funeral.

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