First Grave on the Right (CD 1) by Jones Darynda

Author:Jones, Darynda [Jones, Darynda]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, Fantasy, Paranormal, Women Sleuths, Mystery & Detective
ISBN: 0312577427
Google: hMS79YvuL2QC
Amazon: B006Z30DLC
Publisher: Macmillan
Published: 2010-01-02T08:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eleven

I’d have a longer attention span if there

weren’t so many shiny things.

—T-SHIRT

I awoke at the butt crack of dawn with the call of nature urging me out of bed. After my fall, however, I felt like I’d just downed a fifth of Jack.

After tripping on a planter, stubbing my pinkie toe on a step stool, and running face-first into the doorjamb, I eased onto the toilet and reviewed my agenda for the day with a tinkling melody playing in the background. Thank goodness I had a minimalist attitude toward home decor. If anything else had stood between me and the porcelain throne, I might not have lived to see my next birthday.

I glanced down at the football jersey I was wearing, stolen from a boyfriend in high school, a blond-haired, blue-eyed devil with sin in his blood. Even on our first date, he’d been more interested in the color of my underwear than the color of my eyes. Had I known that beforehand, I would totally have worn the teal ones. Odd thing was, I didn’t remember donning the jersey last night. I didn’t even remember going to bed.

Maybe Cookie slipped a roofie into my hot chocolate. We’d have to talk later, but for now I needed to figure out what to do with my day. Should I ditch my APD responsibilities and go to the prison to check on Reyes? Or should I dump all my APD responsibilities on Cookie and then go to the prison to check on Reyes?

My heart raced in anticipation with the thought of seeing him, though admittedly I was nervous. What if I didn’t like what I found? What if he was actually guilty? I couldn’t help but hold out hope that his conviction was all some big misunderstanding. That Reyes had been wrongfully accused. That the evidence had been mishandled or even fabricated. Denial was not just a river in Egypt.

From what I’d been able to garner last night, reading article after article on the case—not that any of them were in a particularly pretty font—and even part of the court transcripts Cookie had unearthed of Reyes’s trial, the evidence was nowhere near enough for a conviction. Yet twelve people found him guilty. And even more disturbing was the fact that there wasn’t a single mention of the abuse he’d endured. Wouldn’t being almost beaten to death by your father count for something?

As badly as I wanted to go back to sleep, I knew it wouldn’t happen. My mind was racing too hard, too fast, even though I had a very good reason for wanting to go back to sleep, to fall into oblivion, come what may. For the first night in a month, Reyes didn’t visit me. He didn’t slip into my dreams with his dark eyes and warm touch. He didn’t trail kisses down my spine or slide his fingers between my legs. And I couldn’t help but wonder why. Did I do something wrong?

My heart felt hollow. I’d become quite addicted to his nightly visits.

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