The Last Straw (The Jigsaw Files #4) - Sharon Sala Page 0,16

load of messages,” she said as he walked in.

He grinned. “I like apple fritters.”

“I know that,” she said.

“Are there any pressing issues?” Charlie asked.

“Not unless you decide to take the bullshit case, which is the message on top.”

Charlie frowned. “Well, hell. If the day is starting with bullshit, then I’m gonna need two apple fritters to even begin,” he said and kept walking.

Wyrick hid a grin. She loved it when Charlie got all pissy, as long as it wasn’t with her.

* * *

Rachel Dean woke with a gasp, and then moaned.

“This has to be a bad dream. This can’t really be happening to me. Why can’t I wake up?”

Just the sound of her own voice settled the moment of panic, and then she slowly unwrapped herself from the blanket.

But when she tried to stand, she was so sore she could barely move. She finally got to her feet, but it hurt to walk. When she began checking her body, and saw the bruising and the cuts, the pain began to make sense.

She went straight to the toilet, then washed her hands at the sink before refilling her water bottle from the tap. Her throat was burning where he’d cut her, and she feared it would get infected, but without a mirror to see, all she could do was wash it again.

As always, she went straight to the door and tried to open it, but it was still locked. She went through the same routine, beating on the door, screaming for help until hearing the panic in her own voice made it worse, so she crawled back onto the mattress and rolled herself up in the blanket.

She was cold, hungry and at the same time sick to her stomach with fear. She thought of Millie, afraid she’d never see her again—and thought of her job, and how hard she’d worked to get to where she was, only to know she was losing it all. The sadness she felt was undercoated with a growing rage.

Why was God letting this happen?

Then tears rolled.

The reality of her situation was that no one deserved this. Ever. But for whatever reason, it had happened to her, and she wasn’t ready to die.

Four

Millie Chriss was already in Oklahoma City by 9 a.m., and heading for the I35-I40 interchange. It was going to take more than three hours to get to Dallas, plus the time it took to get to her hotel. As she was approaching the interchange, she deftly moved into the far left lane of I35 to take the southbound turnoff that would take her into Texas.

The highway straightened out after she headed south, and with the sun on her left shoulder, and her attention on the crazy amount of traffic, she kept driving, every mile taking her that much closer to Rachel.

* * *

Detectives Floyd and Mills were frustrated. Even though the Rachel Dean case was new, they had nothing that would even lead them in the general direction of finding out where she’d gone, or if someone had taken her.

Between them, they’d worked hundreds of crime scenes in their careers, but this one was a puzzle. Unless the crime scene team came up with some DNA, they were at a loss.

They’d interviewed every resident at the Detter House yesterday, and talked to at least eight people who’d been outside grilling, who’d seen her come home alone the evening before. They knew from the security footage that she also entered her apartment alone, and then basically disappeared into thin air.

They’d confiscated security footage from the exterior and interior of the property, checked her car and confiscated her personal laptop. One of the techs had it at the lab now, going through it, looking for clues—like a relationship no one knew about—or looking for threats she might have received, looking for a hidden lifestyle.

It wouldn’t be the first time a seemingly “good girl” was also walking on the wild side. It didn’t appear likely, but detectives didn’t operate on odds. They worked with facts, and now and then, gut instinct. Unfortunately, right now they were short on both.

* * *

Sonny woke up with a hard-on for Rachel. He had options. He could call in sick and play with her all day. Or he could go to work, and spend the day in anticipation.

The thing about playing with her all day was the less than appealing location, and lack of ambience. The mattress was filthy. The room was cold. He wanted in her, but since he did