*****
Mac drove as we followed Foxy’s truck a few miles down the road to an Irish Pub. Foxy pulled into the lot of O’Malley’s and parked. There were a number of squad cars in the lot and I figured this was probably a popular police hangout. I was flattered that they would take us here, especially because some of their buddies would likely be around.
Foxy waved at the bartender, who was an older man with white hair and a large gut. We walked over to a table for six and Foxy pulled out a chair. The chairs had arms on both sides, and Foxy had to shuffle his ass back and forth to get comfortable.
“They feed you grease burgers and lard fries and expect you to fit into these tiny chairs,” he said to me as I sat down.
Reid sat down and grabbed a menu. I grabbed one too. “I’m starving – does anyone want to get some food? I could get some appetizers for the table,” I offered. Everyone agreed, so I ordered one of everything plus a round of beers.
A football game was on television, and within a matter of minutes, all four men were entranced at the sight of other men slamming into each other and fighting over a ball. Our drinks arrived along with a ton of appetizers. I had gone a little overboard on the food, but it was the production’s money so I didn’t give it another thought. I picked up my beer and gave it a large swig.
“Am I gonna have to pull you over for a DUI later?” Reid asked me.
“You would, too,” I said, glaring at him.
Reid ate a few hot wings and pieces of celery and then got up and walked over to the dart board. I watched him shoot a round alone while stuffing my face with cheese fries and mozzarella sticks. Finally, when I had my share, I stood up and walked over to him. “Can I play?” I asked.
“Honey, you’re like a bad penny.” Reid said.
“Sharpe – right? You’re going to call me Sharpe, not honey, right?”
“Right.” Reid said, handing me some darts. I stood in front of the board and practiced my aim.
“Today, Sharpe,” Reid said.
I took my aim, threw my dart, and it landed right in the bull’s eye. “Ha! Eat that, sucker!” I told Reid.
He grinned slightly and then took aim with his dart. Of course he got the bull’s eye too.
“You know, if we were on a date, you would be expected to lose this round,” I said.
“Luckily we’re not.”
This guy was a barrel of laughs. I should have left him alone but my curiosity was killing me – I had to ask about his background.
“So, why wouldn’t you talk about your family today?”
Reid started at me. “You just won’t take no for an answer, will you? I said that conversation was off limits.”
“You said it was off limits on camera – this is off camera and I’m just making small talk.”
Reid looked up and spoke solemnly. “Fine, you want to know, I’ll tell you. I was born a crack baby. My mom was always strung out on the stuff and would do anything she could to get the cash. Men used to line up at the door to screw her. It was fifty bucks a pop and my dad collected the money. Sometimes women came over and she would sell me and my brother off to them too.”
My eyes started bulging out of my head as I listened. I couldn’t believe I had just made him tell me this. “Whoa, I am so sorry, I didn’t realize…”
Reid started laughing.
“Wait a minute - are you just messing with me?” I asked.
“You are so easy!” Reid laughed.
“You really have a warped sense of humor, you know that?”
Reid was still laughing. “Just trying to give you a good story for your TV show.”
I was really put off. “Yeah, whatever.” I threw a dart at the board with such force that it bounced off.
Reid touched my arm and turned me towards him. “Look, the truth is, I was born and raised in Malibu. Growing up, I was surrounded by celebrities and wealth.”
“You’re being serious now, right?” I asked.
Reid nodded and continued. “Both my parents are top talent agents and are loaded out the ass. They tried to get me into acting – hence the name Bradley Reid – but I wasn’t into it. I don’t like the guys at the station to know I have money because I want to be treated as one of them. You understand?”
I nodded. “Wait, is your dad Rex Reid?”
Reid frowned. “Please don’t tell me you’re an aspiring actress.”
“No he’s my mom’s agent. Evelyn Sharpe – the former host of LA Incorporated.”
“No shit – that’s your mom?”
“Yeah, small world. Look, my mom’s not exactly thrilled with my choice of professions either. She wanted me in front of the camera too. Don’t worry, I’ll keep your secret.”
Reid gave me a half smile, then went back to shooting darts.
Foxy walked up behind us and regarded me. “You’re cool with seeing dead bodies now? I mean, you’re not going to freak out again, right?”
I sighed deeply and dramatically. “That’s right, Foxy. I got it out of my system.”
“Good, because you’re about to get a second chance.” He turned to Reid. “Hit-and-run – one-sixteen Lankershim. Neighbor called it in. Victim is lying in the street.”
Mac and Manny came up behind Foxy having already heard the news while Reid sprang into action. “Okay, Foxy and Sharpe, you two come with me. Mac – you and Manny can follow us in your car. Let’s go!”
Reid was so authoritative as he drummed out orders. I felt like he was a drill sergeant and I was in the Marines. At the same time, his forcefulness was kind of sexy. I snapped to attention, grabbing my purse and running out to the SUV. I grabbed the PD-150, a small video camera that I could use as a second angle that would help in editing. It would also be good to capture anything that I might witness before Mac arrived.
Mac and Manny readied their equipment, then jumped in the SUV while I got in the backseat of the Taurus.
I checked to make sure that the camera mounted in the rearview mirror was turned on, and then I threw out some questions to the guys. “Do you know anything about the victim?” I asked.
As expected, Reid ignored me and pulled the car out of the lot. Luckily, Foxy addressed my question. “We don’t know his name yet. He was described as a Caucasian male, estimated to be twenty-five years old.”
I gulped. “Only twenty-five?” It seemed so young to die.
Foxy turned around and looked at me. “This could be pretty gruesome – you can handle this, right?”
“Right,” I answered with a little more confidence than I felt. The truth was, I was scared. I knew I couldn’t mess with these guys too much – this was their show, and I was just an observer. “I didn’t capture you receiving the call from dispatch on camera so maybe tomorrow we can reenact that in the office. Would that be okay?” I asked.
Foxy smiled at me. “Let’s just see how this pans out, Sharpe.”
We pulled up in front of a beat-up house in Van Nuys. Yellow caution tape was stretched across the street, and there were several cops already on the scene. It was hard to see with all the people milling about, but I assumed they were standing around the body. As I surveyed the scene, I knew this time wasn’t make-believe - this was the real thing. I felt a small sense of comfort being with these two burly cops. They would protect me.
Reid and Foxy stepped out of the car, and I followed after them. Mac and Manny came running up behind me carrying their equipment.
“Reid?” I called. “Hold on, please, we have to mic you up.”
He turned and gave me an icy glare, but he waited. Manny placed the transmitter inside the back of Reid’s pants and threaded the microphone up his shirt and clipped it to his collar. He got Foxy ready next.
Manny pushed some buttons on his sound deck while Mac threw the camera up over his shoulder. “Speed!” Mac announced and the cops took off. I let Manny and Mac cross in front of me and followed behind them. In all the excitement I had forgotten my little PD-150 camera – but there wasn??
?t time to get it now. Besides, I wasn’t a cameraman. I was a producer, and that was what I planned to do.
Reid and Foxy walked up to the caution tape and ducked under it. They walked calmly and confidently, prepared to take over the crime scene. We followed behind them closely. Reid walked up to a cop who was standing near the body. I pulled a spare set of headphones from Manny’s sound pack and plugged them in so I could hear exactly what the microphone was picking up. I nudged Manny to get his boom microphone closer to the action.
“Detective Reid, homicide,” Reid said to the cop by way of introduction. “You the first on the scene?”
The cop was a little scrawny guy and looked like he was fresh out of the police academy.
“Yeah.” He looked at the camera. “Am I on TV?”
“If you’d like to be,” I said, jumping forward. “We’re filming a new show for channel six-twelve. Can I have your permission to use your name and likeness?”
“Sharpe, I thought you were gonna stay out of the way,” Reid interrupted.
“I am, but I need to get him released.” I pulled a release form out of my pocket and handed it to the cop, smiling. “Just sign at the bottom.”
The cop scanned the words quickly and then looked up at me. “Do I have to?”
“Oh no, of course not,” I said, placing my hand on his shoulder. “But I would really appreciate it.” I was pretty good at flirting with men I didn’t find attractive, it was the good looking ones that made me nervous.
“I guess it’s okay,” the cop said and signed.
“Great, now just act like we’re not here.” I took the release and turned to Reid. “Please continue.”
“Oh, thank you so much.” Reid said sarcastically. He turned to the cop. “What’s your name, kid?”
“Anderson.” He held out a hand and they shook.
“Detective Flanagan,” Foxy said ,and also shook the cop’s hand. “Tell us what happened.”
“We got a call from the neighbor. She heard some tires screech and she looked outside to see this guy lying on the ground. His name is Jonathan Walters,” Anderson explained.
As he said it, I looked down at the body. In all the rush to get my shots and release forms this was the first time I was actually looking at him. The victim, Jonathan, was laying face down and the back of his head was facing me. I was grateful that I didn’t have a head-on shot because that wouldn’t work for TV, plus it would likely gross me out. He was wearing a black hooded sweatshirt and a pair of jeans. One of his sneakers had been knocked off his foot and I spotted it half way down the road with an evidence marker next to it. There was some blood on the pavement, and his hands were ripped up and torn like he had been dragged across the road. I felt my breath catch; it wasn’t fair that he met his end like this. Next to him, a medical examiner was kneeling down, going through his wallet.
I nudged Mac to get a shot of the body – I needed some cutaways.
“Where’s the neighbor?” Foxy asked the young cop.
Anderson pointed to an old Chinese woman who was sitting on the front step of the house. “That’s the victim’s house – she lives next door.”
“We talking hit-and-run here?” Reid asked.
“Looks that way – he was on foot. I checked with the neighbor to see if he had a dog or something, but he didn’t. Maybe he was out for a run.”
I looked at the victim. No one would take a run in those baggy jeans – they’d trip.
“Okay, thanks, Anderson, we’ll take it from here,” Reid said.
Anderson looked relieved and gave a weak smile before turning and walking away.
Reid placed a hand on the medical examiner’s back. “Don’t go anywhere, Lou – I want to talk to you.”
“Sure, Reid, let me just touch up my hair and makeup,” Lou joked, smoothing out his short hair.
Reid laughed and we all headed over to the front steps to talk to the neighbor. She was sitting on the front step wearing one of those unflattering floral house dresses and a pair of fuzzy slippers.
“Do you speak English, ma’am?” Reid asked.
“What you think? I American,” the woman answered in a Chinese accent. She was annoyed and frazzled by the accident.
“My name is Detective Reid and this is Detective Flanagan. What is your name?”
“Wilma. Who is she? Who are they?” She pointed to me and the crew.
“Here we go again,” Reid said throwing up his hands.
“Oh hi, we’re filming a TV show,” I answered, smiling. “If you wouldn’t mind, I would like to ask you to sign this piece of paper which grants us the right to use your name and likeness in connection with the show.” I handed her a release.
She looked at it blankly. “I don’t want to be on TV.”
“Sure you do – everyone does. You are a key witness in cracking this case and we would love to spotlight you as a hero. Would that be okay?”
Wilma looked unsure. I pressed on. “Come on, let’s show America what a great citizen you are! Let’s show them how important it is for people to work with the police and help them to solve crimes. I mean, talk about the American dream, Wilma.” I could feel Detective Reid’s eyes staring at me, but I didn’t care. I needed her to sign the release.
“Well, I guess it’s okay,” she said. I pulled out a pen and had her sign the document.
Reid looked at me. “Can we get on with it now?”
I nodded and the detectives turned their attention back to Wilma. Manny gave me a thumbs-up and winked.
“Tell us what you saw tonight,” Reid continued.
“I watching the news and I hear a loud sound – like tires burning rubber. Then I hear a noise like – boom!” she said and clapped her hands together. “I old so I no get up so fast but when I do I saw him lying in the street.”
“Did you see the car that hit Mr. Walters?” Foxy asked.
“No it was too fast. I no see. I run out to see if he okay, but he was all scratched up and not breathing.”
“Did he normally take walks at night?” Reid asked.
“I don’t think so – he has car. His girlfriend always coming over and they play the music so loud and never mow the lawn.”
“How long have you known Mr. Walters?”
“He’s been here, uh, seven months – but we are no friends – I barely see him. He is mostly up at night. I go to bed early – I am old.”
“Was he home at all tonight, do you know?” Reid asked.
“He was home – I took out my garbage and his light was on.”
“And what time was that?” Reid asked.
“Maybe five thirty,” Wilma answered.
“And did you hear him leave the house at all?”
“I don’t know – I didn’t hear.”
“What time was it when you heard the crash outside?” Foxy asked. He had pulled out a little mini notebook and was jotting down her responses.
“Um, it was the end of the six o’clock news.”
“Do you know if he had any enemies?” Foxy asked.
“No I don’t know him like that,” she responded.
“And you didn’t see the car at all, right?” Reid asked.
“No I don’t see so good.”
“Okay Wilma thank you – you’ve been a great help. If you think of anything that you forgot to tell us, here is my card.” Reid handed her his card.
“I go now?” Wilma asked.
“Yes that would be fine. Can you write down your phone number in case I have any more questions?” Reid asked.
She wrote down her number, then got up and walked away.
Reid and Foxy headed back over to the medical examiner. I was still wearing my headset and felt my head yanked sideways as Manny followed the cops. “Pay attention,” Manny whispered.
“So what do we got?” Reid asked the ME.
Lou looked at the camera, then me. “What’s this all about? Who’s the broad?”
“Just forget about her. Harris got me signed up
for this bullshit TV show – like I have nothing better to do.”
“We’re going to be mooovie stars,” Foxy chimed in.
I popped my head in and addressed Lou. “Hi, Lou, right? If I could just ask you to sign this release before we go any further? It just grants us the right to film you. Don’t worry – your involvement will be kept to a minimum as I assume that is your preference.”
Lou looked at me and then Reid. “She’s perky.”
“She’s my cross to bear,” Reid answered. “Just sign it – it’s cool.”
Lou signed and handed me the paperwork.
“Take two!” Foxy joked. “And action on you Reid.”
Reid tried to ignore Foxy and addressed Lou. “So what’ve we got? Bunch of dead ends?”
“Pretty much,” Lou said. “Looks like a straight hit-and-run. His wounds are consistent with being hit by a car – probably at a pretty high speed. It was a car, not a truck or SUV or anything. There’s some tire marks down the road that I am going to have analyzed. Looks like the driver sped up when he saw him.”
“So the guy was being watched,” Reid said.
“Maybe,” Lou answered. “I also found paint chips on his skin – some black, some dark yellow. So either the driver was driving a car that had junkyard parts or it was detailed – like a sports car or something.”
“Okay, what else?” Reid asked.
“That’s basically it. He died on impact so he didn’t suffer much. He had his cell phone on him and his wallet.”
“Can I see the wallet?” Foxy asked. He pulled on a latex glove and opened the wallet. Foxy pulled out his note pad and wrote down the victim’s name and driver’s license number. Mac leaned in to get a close-up of the wallet, but there were no personal photos inside, just his license, a bank card, a stack of money and three condoms. Three condoms seemed like a lot to me, but maybe the guy was an optimist. Foxy pulled out the money and counted it.
“Four hundred eighty-six dollars. That’s a lot of cash.” Foxy returned the wallet to Lou and pulled the victim’s cell phone out of his pocket. Foxy scrolled through the contacts on the phone as well as the calls received and placed. Meanwhile, my curiosity was getting the better of me, so I stepped around the body of the victim in order to get a view of his face.
As it came into view my excitement turned to horror. Large pieces of flesh were torn off and the bloody muscle exposed underneath was covered in asphalt. One of his eyes was open and touching the ground. The eyeball was pulled at an angle down towards the street and it looked like the eyelid had ripped off while he was sliding across the pavement. Looking at that eyeball, I instantly became sick and vomited right there on the floor. Luckily, I had the good sense to turn away so as not to get vomit on the victim.
“Jesus!” Reid yelled. “Are you trying to desecrate another crime scene?”
I looked at him helplessly, then turned and vomited again. I stepped away to get the victim out of my sight. Otherwise, I might be vomiting all night.
“Thanks a lot, idiot! Now I get to smell your stomach acid for the next two hours,” Lou snapped.
“I’m sorry,” I said sincerely.
Foxy handed Lou the phone. “When you’re done with this, I want it, okay?” Lou nodded.
“Have you been in the house yet?” Foxy asked.
“Not yet but my guys are in there. Don’t touch anything, okay? Especially her,” he said, pointing to me.
“We’ll be careful,” Foxy said.
Foxy and Reid headed towards the house with Manny in tow. Mac stopped the camera and turned to me. “You okay, Sharpe?”
“Yeah, I’m fine,” I said, wiping my mouth.
Mac pulled a breath mint out of his fanny pack and handed it to me. “Next time you might want to improve your aim.”
I looked down at my t-shirt and saw the streak of vomit across my chest. “Great, that’s just great,” I said.
Mac pulled out a Wet Wipe and I quickly cleaned my shirt off as best as I could, then ran towards the house.
I stepped inside the house, careful not to touch anything. I hadn’t exactly proved my competence thus far, and I didn’t want to screw things up any further. The front door led into a white living room with bare walls. It was sparsely furnished with a brown velour couch, a halogen lamp in the corner, a glass coffee table and, of course, an enormous flat screen TV. There were a bunch of car racing magazines on the floor and an empty beer bottle on the coffee table.
There was another medical examiner in this room, and Reid and Foxy were exchanging pleasantries with him. Mac was panning around the room with his camera, getting all the angles. Reid and Foxy moved into the bedroom with the crew and me following after them.
The bedroom was much the same as the living room: white walls plus a huge NASCAR poster hanging above the bed. The furniture in this room was actually pretty high-end. He had a nice black metal bed frame and some matching industrial side tables. This room had another big screen television and there was a neon sign on top of the TV that said “Formula 500”. I guessed with three condoms in his wallet this was the room Jonathan probably spent most of his time in.
Reid pulled on a pair of rubber gloves and looked over at me. “Don’t touch anything.”
On top of the dresser there was a napkin that said Rose – Cell. It listed a phone number, which Foxy jotted down. Next, he opened the side table drawer and examined the contents. I had a vision of him pulling out a journal that would reveal everything, but I knew that was silly. This could be a simple hit-and-run with no motive and no witnesses. In short, snoozeville for my viewers. Foxy pulled from the dresser a bag of weed and some rolling papers. He also found a pocket knife and a pack of cigarettes. “This guy liked to party,” he said.
Manny’s eyes lit up. “Hey man – you mind if I grab some of that?”
Foxy just ignored him while I gave Manny my death stare. Still, I was excited that Foxy found the pot – maybe this case was getting interesting.
Reid looked in the closet and didn’t find anything special, just some clothes – mostly black and some boots. For having lived there for seven months, I didn’t think the guy had accumulated much. Maybe it’s different for girls, but my closet would have been spilling over with clothes and shoes and purses. The victim, Jonathan, didn’t seem to have had too much.
“Doesn’t look like he had a house phone – just the cell,” Reid said. He turned on the television – it was set to sports. Reid paused a little while watching the football updates.
“Can you turn that off, please?” I asked. “We can’t get the licensing rights, you know.”
Reid nodded and turned off the TV. “Let’s check out the bathroom.”
The bathroom was pretty basic, with linoleum tiles, a tub/shower combo and a medicine cabinet. Inside the cabinet, Reid found more condoms. “Better save these for later,” he joked to Foxy, and pretended to put them in his pocket.
“Give ‘em to me – my kids can use ‘em as balloons,” Foxy said. “That’s about all the action they’ll see in my house.”
Reid smiled and turned to see Mac’s camera in his face. All five of us had crammed into the bathroom and it was tight. Reid straightened up. “Let’s keep it clean. My mother might see this.”
Other than the condoms, there was nothing special in there. There were some bottles of over-the-counter pain medicine and deodorant – no heavy drugs or straight razors or anything.
Reid looked at Foxy. “I’m gonna call dispatch – find out who the next of kin is.” Reid looked at me and the crew. “Excuse me.”
We all shuffled out of the way to let him out of the bathroom. Foxy was still nosing around the bathroom and Manny was staring at the toilet. “You gotta go?” Foxy asked.
“No, bro. You gonna check behind that thing? Sometimes that’s where they stash the guns,” Manny explained.
“This guy isn’t Mafia, pal. You’ve seen too many movies.” Despite Manny’s comment, Foxy did check behind the toilet, but there wa
s nothing there.
We stepped out of the bathroom and gathered in the kitchen. Foxy continued his search, opening drawers and cabinets. I motioned to Mac to get some shots around the room, but there were no family photos or anything that we could focus on. It was like the guy slept there, but didn’t live there.
Reid came in with his cell phone pressed to his ear. “Uh-huh, uh-huh. Thanks.” He hung up the phone. “Mother’s the next of kin. Was she in his cell phone?”
“No – unless he calls her something other than Mom,” Foxy answered.
“That’s okay – I’ve got her address. Better to tell her in person anyway,” Reid said. “I checked on this house too – it’s a rental. Owner lives in Arizona.”
“Are we going now?” I asked. “To notify the mother?”
“Yeah, we’re done here. The ME can wrap things up,” Reid said.
“Okay. Let me just grab some quick interviews with you guys, okay? Mac, do you want to set up outside?” I felt Reid glaring at me, but I didn’t care. There was no excuse not to get this interview. “We don’t have to light the shot – it will be quick,” I assured him.
Outside, I stood next to Mac who held the camera over his shoulder pointing at Foxy and Reid. In the interest of time, I decided to interview them together. Manny stood to the side holding the boom over the cops. Mac clamped a light to his camera and we were ready to roll.
“Tell me what we have here tonight,” I began.
Reid looked at Foxy. “Should I take this?”
“You don’t even care about this show – why should you take it?” Foxy snapped.
“Dude, if you want to take it, just say so. Don’t be a prick about it.”
“I just don’t think you should assume Sharpe was talking to you.”
“Guys, guys!” I interrupted. “Foxy, can you answer the question please?”
Foxy smiled wide. “I’d be delighted to.”
“We don’t have all night,” Reid grumbled.
Foxy stared at me, all business. “We arrived at the scene at nineteen hundred hours. The victim was lying in the street – an apparent hit-and-run. The injuries were consistent with the cause of death. The victim was walking alone at night when he was struck by a moving vehicle. Forensics has determined that it was likely a mid-sized vehicle or sports car. We also found paint chips on the victim’s clothing.”
Reid looked at Foxy, surprised. “That was really good, man.”
Foxy smiled. “Felt good. I mean, I really sounded like I knew what I was talking about, right?”
“Yeah, you didn’t stutter or anything.”
“Okay, let’s focus.” I said. “Foxy, tell me about the house – what did you find?”
“We found numerous prophylactics in the victim’s house. More than we have seen in quite some time.” His delivery was very matter-of-fact, and Reid found it hard to keep a straight face.
“Hold on – more than you’ve seen. I’ve seen that many. In fact, that’s probably about a week’s supply for me,” Reid joked.
“Don’t forget your mother will see this,” I scolded. “Keep it PG, please.”
“All I meant was that this guy may have died young, but he died happy,” Reid said, smiling.
I was getting annoyed. These two needed to take this seriously. The man they were joking about was dead. Plus I doubted that Detective Reid really went through that many condoms each week. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d even needed one. “We’re talking about a dead guy, right? Can we stick to the facts?”
They straightened up and we continued without any more wisecracks. The cops explained what they found in the house, the neighbor’s testimony, and so on. At the end, I asked the detectives what they thought the chances of catching this guy were. Of course, Detective Reid scoffed at my ignorance.
“Hit-and-runs are virtually impossible to solve if there are no witnesses. We’ll follow all the steps and do everything we can to bring the criminal to justice, but the odds are against us. Sorry, sweetheart, I don’t think this is gonna be your big story.”
He was right. This story sucked. Why couldn’t someone have been shot with a bunch of witnesses? Where was my footage of the cops drilling the suspect for hours and finally dragging a confession out of him? This story was going nowhere fast.
“Come on, let’s go,” Reid said, and we all headed towards the cars.
Reid popped the trunk and pulled out a spare dress shirt. He threw it at me. “Put this on. We can’t have you showing up at the mother’s place looking like that.”
He was right. The vomit stains wouldn’t give the best first impression. “Sharpe, if that doesn’t fit, I can give you one of my shirts” Foxy joked.
“That’s funny, Foxy.” I looked around for a place to change quickly, but I didn’t have a lot of options. Reid was standing by the trunk, so I squatted in front of the car and quickly pulled off my shirt. All of a sudden, I felt the car’s hot lights turn on. Foxy was in the passenger’s seat howling with laughter. Reid walked over to me.
“Today, Sharpe!” he said.
My shirt was over my head exposing my bra and even worse, my stomach. This hunched over position couldn’t be a good look for my gut, and I was pretty sure at least one roll of fat was hanging over my jeans. “Damn it – can’t I have some privacy?”
“You’re naked in the middle of the street,” Reid pointed out.
I tried to straighten my posture to smooth the rolls on my stomach but soon realized my attempts were in vain. Instead, I finished changing and jumped up. “Detective,” I said calmly as I walked past him and got into the back of the car.
Reid shook his head, then got in the driver’s seat and hit the gas. This was going to be a very long night.
Chapter 4.