Join the Flub (The Worst Detective Ever Book 4) by Christy Barritt

Author:Christy Barritt [Barritt, Christy]
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub
Publisher: River Heights
Published: 2017-08-30T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty

Someone knocked on my door in the middle of the night.

I plucked an eye open. Found my phone on the nightstand. Somehow managed to hit a button there. The screen lit.

It was actually 6:00 a.m., but it might as well be the middle of the night. It certainly felt like it.

Then all the events of the past two days rushed back to me. An ache pulsed through my foot and brought everything into absolute clarity. My life was a disaster.

“Joey?”

That was right. Someone was at my door.

Jackson was here, I remembered.

He’d slept downstairs.

And I was sleeping now. Well, I had been sleeping.

“Joey?”

I sat up, startled with new thoughts. What if I had drool that had dried on the corner of my mouth?

“Yes?” I finally called.

“Joey, I have to go into work,” he called through the door. “Something came up.”

I tried to jump out of bed, but as soon as my ankle slid from the bed to the floor, I froze with a new round of pain. I wouldn’t be moving quickly to do anything. Hopefully, no serial killers would chase me. They would win.

Then I realized what he’d said. “Did you say something came up?”

“Nothing you need to worry about. I’ll fill you in later. Listen, Zane said he would come by. I don’t want you to be alone.”

Jackson had called Zane for help? That was . . . surprising. Whatever had “come up” must be pretty important.

“I’ll be fine,” I said, staring at my bandaged foot with a frown.

“I’m not so sure about that. Besides, I’m not sure you can even get downstairs unassisted.”

Jackson had a point. I wanted to argue, but I couldn’t.

“Call me if you need me,” he continued. “I’ll be checking in.”

I lay back in bed with a sigh. It was useless to argue. And my foot did hurt really bad. I needed to take more pain medication.

“Okay,” I finally said. “Thank you.”

I picked up my prescription from the nightstand, popped a pill out, and swallowed it. Maybe this would help with the pain.

A moment later, I heard the door close downstairs. Then I heard the door open again.

Zane. He knew my passcode to get inside.

I was going to have to get out of bed, wasn’t I? I didn’t want to. I wanted to pull my covers over my head and pretend like none of this had happened. But there was a sadistic saboteur or an unsuccessful killer out there. I couldn’t take it easy.

I glanced at my phone again and saw it was already blowing up with messages and missed calls, most of which were unimportant. I’d put it on silent last night so I could sleep, and that was either a great idea or a horrible one.

Another knock sounded at my door.

“Joey?”

It was Zane. I’d recognize his raspy voice anywhere.

“Hi, Zane.” I readjusted the pillow behind me.

“We have a problem,” he said.

“What kind of problem?” I didn’t even want to know. I had enough problems as it was.

“There’s a news van parked outside your house, and reporters are coming to your door.

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