Enough Love by Lauren Snow

Author:Lauren Snow [Snow, Lauren]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2019-12-17T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER SEVEN

So far, my morning is going good. I woke up feeling refreshed, and I hope this feeling continues. I’m banking on today being a calm, uneventful, easygoing Sunday. The universe owes me that much. I don’t need any surprises.

At present, I’m feeling like a cup of coffee, maybe a bowl of oatmeal to go along with it, and a side of toast.

I go into the kitchen to fetch what I need and then my phone rings. My dog, Chaz, barks from the living room. Please, universe, don’t let this be anyone who can stick a pin in my happiness right now.

The number on the caller ID is private. A scary thought crosses my mind. What if it’s one of the hoodlums who chased me? What if they somehow got a hold of my number?

“Hello?” I answer reluctantly.

“Hi, is this Rachel Benning?” The voice on the other end belongs to a man, older, middle-aged. Not quite what either of the hoodlums sounded like. Thank God.

“Uh, yes? This is she. Who’s calling?”

“Miss Benning, this is Detective Elliott with the PPD. I have some questions I’d like to ask you regarding Mike Eisenhower. Are you available within the next hour or so?”

My heart plunges into my stomach. And just like that, my plea to the universe is denied.

“Umm . . .” My mind draws a blank. I don’t know what to think of this. What did Mike do, and why am I being pulled into it? I don’t know anything about this man, aside from the fact that he frequents the pharmacy I work at. That’s my story, and I’m sticking to that.

“Miss Benning, I realize this is short notice,” the detective says. “And I know you’re probably in a state of shock that a detective is calling you on a Sunday morning. But we need some crucial information. I don’t like to put pressure on people, but this is kind of urgent. Can I come and speak with you?”

“Uh . . .” I knead my forehead in disbelief and confusion. “Yeah, sure.”

“Great. What time is good for you? And where do you live?”

“Maybe within the next half hour.”

“Sure. And your address, ma’am?”

I’m leery about telling this man where I live. It’s hard to trust anybody after what happened at the bus stop two nights ago.

“Er—” I hesitate in giving my location. For all I know, this could be a setup to rob me in my own place—or worse.

“If you don’t trust me, I’d be glad to give you my badge number so you know I’m legit,” he offers. “Happens all the time. I’m not offended, trust me.”

“No, no, you don’t have to do that, Detective,” I reply. “I live at 5609 Baldwin Street, apartment 203.”

“Great. I should be there no later than eleven. That okay?”

“Yup, sounds good.”

We disconnect and I’m left in a whirlwind of thought. What could he possibly want to talk to me about?

Half an hour flies by in a blink. There’s a knock at my door. My stomach swarms with butterflies.

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