5,99 €
Mehr erfahren.
- Herausgeber: Lorhainne Eckhart, INC.
- Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
- Serie: The O'Connells
- Sprache: Englisch
When dispatcher Charlotte Roy passes along a call to bad-boy deputy Marcus O’Connell, they learn a six-year-old child is in danger. Can they save the girl from a desperate situation?
NY Times & USA Today bestselling author Lorhainne Eckhart brings you an emotional O’Connell family novel that is both “Gut-wrenching & Riveting.” When Deputy Marcus O’Connell is blindsided one night after a series of calls that comes in from an unknown number, and the caller on the other end is a child. All he knows is she’s six years old, her name is Eva, and there’s someone in her house who wants to hurt her.
“A new family series more suspenseful than the Friessens.” Karen L. Vine Voice
“This book masterfully interweaves several hot button topics and evokes feelings of anger, sympathy and even shock. A scared little girl and her calls for help are the catalyst to a situation that quickly spirals out of control and ends in tragedy.” Rebmay
“Deputy Marcus O'Connell has a sixth sense when it comes to crime, honed by a troubled childhood. So when a young girl calls, asking for help, he finds himself in a hostage situation of sorts with a disillusioned ex- military and a homeless single mother.” Honest Bookworm
“I truly love this author. She writes from the heart about the everyday things that actually happen in real life.” Caroline L.
Marcus is the ultimate bad boy turned deputy. He knows everything about how to get away with something, considering he was one of the middle of the six O’Connell siblings. He never had responsibility resting on his shoulders like his brother Owen, and he’s never been the center of attention like his little sister, Suzanne. Marcus knows how to find trouble and talk his way out of it.
Now, as the head deputy for the Livingston sheriff’s office, he knows everything about everybody, and no one can pull anything over on him. It’s why he’s such a damn good deputy. But even Marcus dreads what cops know as the third call.
When Marcus takes the call the first time, he thinks it’s a prank. The second time, he knows there’s a problem. The third time the call comes in and is patched through to him, he knows it’s something he can’t ignore. The only thing is, the girl is terrified and keeps hanging up, and Marcus knows someone is in the house with her.
Where are her parents, and who is this mysterious girl who needs his help?
Das E-Book können Sie in Legimi-Apps oder einer beliebigen App lesen, die das folgende Format unterstützen:
Seitenzahl: 250
Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2020
Ähnliche
The Third Call, The O’Connells
COPYRIGHT © Lorhainne Ekelund, 2020, All Rights Reserved.
No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Contact Information: [email protected]
Editor: Talia Leduc
Created with Vellum
THE THIRD CALL
The O’Connells
Book 2
LORHAINNE ECKHART
Contents
Keep in touch with Lorhainne
About the O’Connells
About this book
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
What’s coming next in The O’Connells
The Secret Husband
Other Works Available
The Sacrifice
A New Crossover Series!
Shadow Game
About the Author
Series Available
Links to Lorhainne Eckhart’s Booklist
Keep in touch with Lorhainne
Sign-up for Lorhainne’s Newsletter & Monday Blog
Like Lorhainne on Facebook
Follow Lorhainne on Instagram
Follow Lorhainne on Twitter
Lorhainne’s Audiobooks on Audible
Follow Lorhainne on Bookbub
Follow Lorhainne on Amazon
Connect with me on Goodreads
Check-out Lorhainne’s Pinterest Boards
Follow me on Wattpad
About the O’Connells
The O’Connells of Livingston, Montana, are not your typical family. Follow them on their journey to the dark and dangerous side of love in a series of romantic thrillers you won’t want to miss. Raised by a single mother after their father’s mysterious disappearance eighteen years ago, the six grown siblings live in a small town with all kinds of hidden secrets, lies, and deception. Much like the contemporary family romance series focusing on the Friessens, this romantic suspense series follows the lives of the O’Connell family as each of the siblings searches for love.
The O’Connells
The Neighbor
The Third Call
The Secret Husband
The Quiet Day
The Commitment, An O’Connell Novella
The Missing Father
The Hometown Hero
Justice
The Family Secret
The Fallen O’Connell
The Return of the O’Connells
And The She Was Gone
The Stalker
The O’Connell Family Christmas
The Girl Next Door
Broken Promises
The Gatekeeper
The Hunted
The O’Connells Box Set Collections
The O’Connells Books 1 - 3
The O’Connells Books 4 - 6
The O’Connells Books 7 - 9
The O’Connells Books 10 - 12
The O’Connells Books 13 - 15
The O’Connells Books 16 - 18
About this book
Romance and suspense collide in this pulse-pounding read!
“Danger, romance, and a drive to do what is right will see you glued to the page as you watch Marcus's tale unfold.”
When dispatcher Charlotte Roy passes along a call to bad-boy deputy Marcus O’Connell, they learn a six-year-old child is in danger. Can they save the girl from a desperate situation?
Deputy Marcus O’Connell is blindsided one night after a series of calls comes in from an unknown number, and the caller on the other end is a child. All he knows is she’s six years old, her name is Eva, and there’s someone in her house who wants to hurt her.
Marcus is the ultimate bad boy turned deputy. He knows everything about how to get away with something, considering he was one of the middle of the six O’Connell siblings. He never had responsibility resting on his shoulders like his brother Owen, and he’s never been the center of attention like his little sister, Suzanne. Marcus knows how to find trouble and talk his way out of it.
Now, as the head deputy for the Livingston sheriff’s office, he knows everything about everybody, and no one can pull anything over on him. It’s why he’s such a damn good deputy. But even Marcus dreads what cops know as the third call.
When Marcus takes the call the first time, he thinks it’s a prank. The second time, he knows there’s a problem. The third time the call comes in and is patched through to him, he knows it’s something he can’t ignore. The only thing is, the girl is terrified and keeps hanging up, and Marcus knows someone is in the house with her.
Where are her parents, and who is this mysterious girl who needs his help?
ChapterOne
Deputy Marcus O’Connell took another swallow of Suzanne’s favorite local stout and wondered how his sister could drink the stuff. He’d never taken to heavy dark beer, preferring lighter lagers, and he was drinking it now only because she’d ordered two and slid one over to him just after he got there. Now, she was making her way over to one of the firefighters, Lieutenant Toby Chandler.
“Stop staring at them,” said Sheriff Osbert Berry, Bert for short, who was sitting on the same stool at the end of the bar where he always sat, nursing the ale on tap. Marcus hadn’t known he was paying attention.
“I’m not staring. I’m observing. There’s a difference.” He leaned on the bar, having to glance back over his shoulder to Bert, who seemed to have packed on a few more pounds as of late. He already had a hefty frame for a man in his sixties, and it appeared he hadn’t shaved in days.
“Bullshit, Marcus,” Bert said. “You’re staring them down with that look you have that makes everyone nervous. She’s flirting, blowing off steam. Let her have some fun, and remember, son, you’re talking to the man who wrote the book on staring down numbskulls whose asses you want to kick. I trained you. I know you better than anyone.”
For a second, Bert smiled almost fondly over at Suzanne, who he still couldn’t believe was making eyes at Toby. Why couldn’t she see that his only redeeming quality was the fact that he showed up for work? His sister was one of the best firefighters in Livingston, and if push came to shove, it would be her Marcus wanted saving his ass, not the asshole she was making eyes at.
“I mean, look at him,” Marcus said, “the way he looks down at her with that flashy plastic smile he puts on for every girl. Why the hell can’t she see the guy’s a player, shallow, got nothing going for him? Lost count of the number of times I’ve told her to look anywhere else. She’s been with the department longer, yet he got the promotion to lieutenant last week. Give you three guesses as to why he got it and not her.”
He dragged his gaze back down the bar as his sister tossed her hair over her shoulder and shrugged, flirting. He had to look away. The sheriff was softly chuckling under his breath, then polished off the pint in front of him and gestured to Ken, the bartender and owner of the Lighthouse bar, a silver-haired former golden-gloves fighter and someone else he had to keep an eye on.
“What, you mean just because he’s a strapping young white man who has the same last name as the former chief?” Bert said as Ken slid him another pint. He nodded in thanks, then lifted his gaze to Marcus, who was counting the number of pints he’d downed—five or six, he thought. “Take a look in the mirror, son. Some could say the same about you.” Bert’s blue eyes were bloodshot with the sorrow that seemed to be a part of him now, so many months since he’d put his wife in the ground.
“Seriously, what the hell does that have to do with anything?” Marcus said. “I’m fucking good at what I do, and I didn’t step over anyone or have anything handed to me. Doors weren’t all that open for me, if you recall.”
In fact, he was one of the six O’Connell kids, the brood who had been known as walking trouble—the kind of reputation their mom had warned them would be forever burned in the townsfolk’s minds. He had frequently found himself in trouble as a kid, so much so that Bert had taken to picking him up immediately whenever someone did something, just to save time tracking him down. Constantly being one step from juvie had made him pick up on the kinds of things everyone else missed. Whether at accidents or crime scenes, he now had a sixth sense, just knowing who had done what before anyone could even make notes or grab a coffee. Maybe he just knew exactly how someone living a life of crime would think. If he didn’t know the who, he just about always knew the why and the how.
The sheriff lifted his hand to stop him. “Just making a point is all, Marcus. You think I don’t know all that? Well, what I know doesn’t matter. People forget all that when shit hits the fan. We’re not all balanced and politically correct and everything—and that kind of thing now matters, as was pointed out to me this morning by the city council.” Bert gave him a significant glance.
Marcus gave everything to the old man he’d once looked up to. “What exactly was pointed out and by who?” he said, then looked down at the dark stout. He just couldn’t make himself drink it, so he pushed it away. What had his sister been thinking, ordering it for him? Oh, yeah, she’d been distracted over Toby at the other end of the bar. Just then, Toby lifted his chin to Marcus as if they were friends, so he dragged his gaze back over to the sheriff, who leaned on the bar and lifted his pint of ale to take another swallow.
“Oh, you know,” Bert said, “the same old crew, the mayor and all his cronies. Apparently, they want to see us more diverse and colorful. We’ve been told to hire a woman for the open deputy position.”
For a second, he wasn’t sure he’d heard correctly. “What open deputy position?”
Bert made a face. “The one the city council advised me of. Apparently, the backlog of paperwork and reports, budgets and stuff—ones I supposedly finished, signed, and submitted—showed that for the first time, the sheriff’s office is actually in the black when it comes to closing cases. In fact, we’re listed among the top fifty offices with the lowest numbers of unsolved crimes, or something along those lines, for whoever comes up with that kind of stuff. Funny thing is, though, I couldn’t remember submitting all that paperwork.”
Marcus wasn’t sure what to say. The sheriff seemed to consider something as he looked around the bar. “Look, Sheriff…” he started before the old man rested his beer on the bar and cut him off.
“I know you’ve been covering for me,” he said. “I know you’re the one who’s made sure everyone is getting where they need to be, getting the office staffed, giving tickets to keep the revenue coming in, making sure cases are being closed and lines aren’t being crossed so this place stays safe. You make sure all the Ts are crossed and no one fucks up anywhere. I knew it was you, always did. In case I haven’t said it, thank you. My head hasn’t been in it, you know…” He stopped talking, and that sadness returned. So did the knot in Marcus’s stomach as he thought of the day the call had come in. Peach Berry had had a heart attack at the hair salon while getting her roots done. The dye had still been in her hair. His sister had been first on the scene, and he’d been second. He didn’t think he’d ever forget the way the old man had cried.
“Stop it,” Marcus said. “It’s what we do. So we get extra help now? Good. I guess as long as it’s someone who can do the job and is qualified…”
Case in point in terms of a lack of qualifications, in his mind, was Toby Chandler at the end of the bar, who was not only flirting openly with his sister but also taking in every hot woman in the room.
His cell phone buzzed, and he pulled it out, seeing the sheriff’s office on the screen. “O’Connell,” he said. The sheriff was now giving him everything.
“Sorry to bug you, Marcus,” said Charlotte Roy, their dispatcher. “I know you’re off, but I got a call, a young kid, I think, probably horsing around and stuff. You know how kids get a hold of the phone and play when mom and dad aren’t looking. The kid hung up after a few seconds, no number or name. You said to let you know if anything came in.”
Charlotte had also been picking up on everything the sheriff had missed. Thirty years old, she was a good woman, a good friend. As a dispatcher, she was the best, but even she would admit that as a wife, she sucked.
“No, that’s totally fine, Charlotte,” he said. “Anything come up on call display, anything to give you an idea of who the kid is?”
The sheriff had picked up on what he was saying, and he seemed to be fumbling for his wallet, so Marcus quickly gestured to the barman to take his keys.
“Nope, nothing. It’s likely one of those burners. The kid was young, only said hi and then hung up. That makes me think it’s a kid playing around with the phone, you know?”
As he listened to Charlotte, he took in the back and forth between the bartender and sheriff and knew he was going to have to step in. “Okay, could be right,” he said. “Just keep an ear open and call me if anything else comes up. Would be ideal to find out so I can check in and at least give the parents a heads-up that the kid’s playing with their phone. You know what? I’ll pop back into the station.”
He hung up and pocketed his cell phone, then saw his sister making her way back over to him, so he tapped the counter and gestured to the pint of stout she’d ordered for him. “Hey, you can finish that,” he said. “I’ve got to go. You done down there, or you going to continue making a fool of yourself?”
Of course, what did she do but roll her eyes? “Oh, Marcus, seriously, keep your opinions to yourself and your nose out of my business,” Suzanne said, settling her own stout on the bar top. Marcus just grunted.
Just then, the sheriff stepped off the stool, and he swayed a bit, keys in hand, while Ken held his palm out, demanding the sheriff turn them over.
“Whoa, there!” Marcus said. “You just give those to me. You’re not driving anywhere.” He grabbed the keys one handed and tossed them to Ken behind the bar, who stuffed them under the counter. He reached for Bert’s arm, taking in the concern on his sister’s face.
“You got him?” she said.
In the buzz of the bar, he knew his sister understood everything. Just then, asshole Toby came up and joined her, so Marcus just said, “Yeah, yeah. I got him.”
But the sheriff pulled away, staggering to the door. “I can drive myself,” he said. “I’ve been driving myself everywhere for longer than you been born…”
Marcus watched a second, listening to the sheriff carry on, then tipped his chin to his sister before following Bert out the door. He grabbed his arm before he could fall over, preparing for the nightly routine: Bert would continue to argue the entire way home, even after he helped him inside the dusty small rancher, put him to bed, and pulled his boots off. He’d be snoring before Marcus left.
Then he’d stop back into the office and check on everything one final time before taking off for the night.
ChapterTwo
Marcus worked a piece of gum as he drove back toward the station, taking a second to really consider everything that had happened. With his job, he was the law in this town, running things, making decisions and taking charge. He took in the downtown streets and the passing people that he knew, in a part of the country he loved, surrounded by mountains.
At the same time, this place was filled with secrets, this town, these people, and somewhere out there was the key to the biggest secret of all, the mystery of what had happened to his dad. One day, he knew he’d find answers.
He didn’t nod to anyone, though he knew everyone saw him driving past. A wave here, a turn of a head there, even from people he knew had whispered that he’d never amount to anything. Now he was the one in charge.
Marcus took in the bustling parking lot as he drove back past the Lighthouse bar on his way to the station house. His sister was still there, and so was Toby, considering both their cars were still parked side by side in the parking lot. Maybe this weekend he’d take another crack at her, but then again, he needed to remind himself that Suzanne had never listened to anyone when it came to anything. Yup, a typical O’Connell, with a stubborn streak a mile wide.
Suzanne was deceiving. She gave the illusion of being mild mannered and quiet, as the youngest sibling, but that entire personality was a ruse for her rock-hard stubbornness. She did whatever the hell she wanted, contrary to anyone, and she generally got away with just about anything.
Marcus pulled into the spot marked “Sheriff,” taking in the setting sun. His stomach growled as he thought back on the possibility of the burger and beer his sister had promised if he joined her at the Lighthouse. Right, not happening now, considering she was preoccupied. Add in the fact that he couldn’t stop himself from triple checking things at the station, which he did every night since Peach, God rest her, had left all of them. Nothing was going to blow up in his face at the sheriff’s office, not on his watch.
He took in the parking lot, the old brick of the sheriff’s office, and the town hall across the street, then made his way up the steps and pulled open the front door. His boots scraped across the old linoleum as he took in the frosted door with “Sheriff’s Office” written in fresh black print, something else he’d taken care of.
Inside, Charlotte, the dispatcher, whom he’d known forever, was standing at an old five-drawer file cabinet. Her dark hair was pulled high in a ponytail, and her curves had distracted everyone, namely the male who was cuffed and parked at an empty desk.
“Hey there, Marcus,” she said. “You get the sheriff all settled at home?” There was something about the way she spoke, and her smile lit up her entire face and her hazel eyes. Without question, she always stepped in to cover for the sheriff when Marcus wasn’t there. Maybe because of that, he’d never been able to understand why her personal life sucked so badly.
“He was snoring Zs by the time I left. You think you can get that friend of yours who cleans houses to stop on over again? His place needs a good going-over. It’s a pigsty, and pretty sure there isn’t a clean dish or shirt left, the way everything is piled up.”
Charlotte paused as she sifted through the files, then stuffed a folder in the already overcrowded drawer. She wore the same brown deputy shirt he did, only he swore it looked better on her.
“You bet I can,” she said. “What excuse should I use this time?” She closed the drawer and wandered back over to her desk, which was neat and tidy. He took in the messages she reached for.
“I don’t know. What did you say last time?”
She handed him the notepad, covered in her neat penmanship. There were a lot of the same regular nuisance complaints, nothing urgent, all a pain in the ass. When he glanced up, he took in the frown on Charlotte’s face, a face that would never get lost even in a sea of pretty faces.
“That he entered some contest to win free housecleaning,” she said.
Right, that was easy. “Say it was a package, more than one. Just make up a number, and I’ll cover the cost.”
She simply nodded, and he knew she’d take care of it. “You know, you don’t have to pay it yourself,” she said. “Let’s pass the hat around. I’m sure both Lonnie and Colby would also pitch in. It’s not all on you to look after the sheriff.”
What could he say to explain the soft spot he had for a man who’d given him more chances than anyone to turn his life around? Then there was Peach, who had looked the other way when he lifted that pack of smokes. Instead of busting his ass, she’d simply driven up beside him, told him to get in, and taken him back to her place, where she had given him a slice of lemon meringue and some sweetened tea and shown him an old photograph of her brother, who’d done a nickel at Calhoun for theft and was now six feet under, having never gotten his shit together. Marcus had never stolen anything again. That was just one more thing he hadn’t shared with anyone in his family.
“That’s mighty nice, Charlotte, but let’s keep it under wraps for now. Bert just needs a little bit to find his feet again. I can do that much.”
Charlotte gave a soft sigh. “You’re an absolute gem, Marcus. If only I’d gone with you to prom and not Jimmy Roy.”
That was the what-if road, which he had no intentions of going down, considering way back then, Charlotte’d had eyes only for Jimmy. Taking a trip down memory lane was something he wasn’t going to do.
“So this is everything for tonight?” he said. “Nothing else has come in?”
She shook her head, gesturing with her chin. “Lonnie is out at the Miller place about a break-in on one of his sheds, some farm equipment taken, and Colby is pulling the night shift tonight, so he’s making rounds. No more kids calling for kicks, so you just may be in for a quiet night. Was about to head home myself.” She pulled her desk drawer open and lifted out her baggy purse, then rested it on the desk. “Unless you need me to stay and help with anything?”
She was so damn good. Why did she give everything to the job instead of making the tough decisions she needed to with the dickhead she’d married?
“Jimmy still won’t leave, huh?” was all he said, knowing there was only so much he could do to avoid the topic. She and Jimmy had gotten married eight years ago and had been separated for seven.
She just shrugged and looked away. She still shared a house with the man she was married to in name only, because neither one of them wanted to give it up. It was pitiful and one of her only flaws.
“What can I say, Marcus? He’s as stubborn as me. We’re each waiting for the other to blink and walk away so one of us can have the house, but hell will freeze over before I let that man have a house that has been in my family for two generations.”
That was why she would never be free.
“Any progress with the lawyers?” He didn’t know why he’d asked, as she only shrugged. He wanted to point out to her again, as he had a dozen times, if not more, that she was only making her lawyer wealthy, and she could have bought two houses by now if she’d only walked away.
“He keeps telling me the same thing as you, that it’s just a house and it’s not going to get me back my last seven years. Do I want to give away another ten, twenty, or move on and be happy? But I’ll tell you exactly what I told him: That was my grandparents’ house. I love that house and don’t want to live anywhere else, so he needs to do his job, get a court date, and get Jimmy the fuck out of my house. Jimmy’s lawyer has managed to do everything he can to delay every single thing all because of one mistake I made.”
He could hear her frustration, and boy, he felt the bite of her words. She was passionate about that house. He wondered why it was that some women held on to the most ridiculous things, and he thought about his sister Suzanne, too. Thankfully, the phone rang, so he didn’t have to think of something inspirational to say.
“Sheriff’s office,” Charlotte said, without the same sweet voice she normally used. Yeah, there was a side of her that just couldn’t be reasoned with.
Whoever was on the other end had her flicking those hazel eyes over to him and snapping her fingers to drive home the urgency and get his attention.
“Honey, can you give me your name?” she said, then allowed the phone to slide away from her mouth. “It’s that little kid who called before,” she whispered.
Marcus gestured for Charlotte to give him the phone, but she was listening to something.
“I’m sorry, I can’t hear you,” she said. “Is there somebody there? Someone’s trying to hurt you? Where’s your mommy or daddy? What…hello?” She held the receiver away. “She hung up again, but I think she said her name is Eva. A young kid, just like before.”
Marcus reached for the main phone and slid it around, trying to see the number, but all the display showed was the typical blocked number from a burner cell. Charlotte held out the receiver to him. Something about these calls was now bothering him.
“You know what?” he said. “If you don’t mind staying for a bit, maybe call Tulli at the state computer crime lab in Missoula and see if he can find a way back to that number.”
Charlotte gave a quick smile—of relief, he thought—and dumped her bag back on her desk. “You bet,” she said, once again sounding sweet, nice, likely because he’d just given her the one thing she wanted: a reason not to go home and hang out with the man she was still married to.
Yup, he liked Charlotte. Could even have found himself asking her out a time or two, but there was that little fact that she was still married. Taking her home to her place meant hanging out with her husband, who would likely be doing the same type of entertaining, all because neither could get along, and neither would give up the house.
There was something about relationships that sometimes had him wondering why anyone ever bothered.
ChapterThree
“You know what?” Marcus said, turning from the street toward Colby, the youngest deputy in the department. “Finish up this report at the stationhouse, and tell Charlotte, if she’s still there, to go on home and turn the phones over to the main after-hours service. They’ll pick up any calls coming in tonight.”
He took in the flashing lights of the tow truck just pulling in to retrieve the pickup that had blindsided a Ford Escape at a four-way stop. Apparently, both drivers were confused on who had been there first, and they were still arguing. The scuffle had turned a minor traffic incident into a pain in the ass, with just another asshole he had to write up.
Then there was “the kid,” who was working a piece of gum, trying to appear as if he wasn’t in over his head. Colby appeared barely old enough to shave, which was likely why he’d forever carry the nickname. He surveyed the scene, trying not to appear scared shitless, doing his best to fill out the deputy uniform with his tall, lanky, boyish frame, as if he had some kind of authority to shut down both these assholes. In the end, Marcus had been forced to step in.
“What about him?” The kid gestured to the asshole with the bloody nose, the owner of the pickup. He seemed to have a history with the other guy, who was still carrying on about the huge dent in the back end of his rusted-out Escape.
“Give them both a ride home. I’ll have Wally tow these vehicles out of here, and—” His cell phone rang again. He pulled it from his pocket and took in the office phone number. “Hold that thought,” he said to the kid. “Charlotte, you’re still at the office? Thought you would’ve left by now.”
“Marcus, that kid called again,” Charlotte said. “I’ve still got her on the line.” It was there in her voice, the urgency. The knot in his stomach was so tight as he realized this was the third time the girl had called. “I’ll patch her through. Her name is Eva.”
“Shit—yes,” Marcus said, “and anything else you find out about her, too, like where she is…” he started before he heard the click and knew she was now on the line.
“Eva, this is Charlotte again. Listen, I have Deputy O’Connell on the line, and he’s going to help you. You tell him everything…”
“Is he going to come and get me?” Eva said.
