Packs Of The Pacific Northwest Series by Meg Ripley

Author:Meg Ripley
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

“I can call for a tow truck.”

“I...” She hated that ugly thing. What did she need it for? She doubted anybody would bother to steal it—and if they did, good riddance. If not, it could rot there just like Dwight. “I’ll have a friend take care of it in the morning.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to go to the hospital? We’re not far.”

“I’m sure. I promise if I start to feel light-headed or anything I’ll tell you and you can take me right to the emergency room.”

He nodded. “Fair enough.” He gestured at the radio. “You can put on something, if you’d like.”

She accepted the kind gesture and searched through the stations for something, but none of the music was soothing and all the commercials were loud and jarring. She flicked the dial off and stared out the window. She was sure he would have more questions for her once they stopped. Questions she wouldn’t want to answer. Questions she didn’t even know how to answer.

Would he be so nice to her when they discovered Dwight’s dead body? Or Butch’s? Or Franklin’s? She knew she didn’t kill Dwight, but the circumstances didn’t look good. They didn’t look good at all.

Oh, I’m fucked.

Fear stabbed through her, sharp enough to make her cry out. She tried to swallow down her sob before he heard—but he definitely heard it.

“Ma’am? I want you to know, you’re safe now.”

Sure, sure thing. Absolutely. I’m safe now. A hollow lie, no matter who said it. She couldn’t nod, she couldn’t agree with him…she couldn’t even acknowledge she heard him.

Safe. What did that word even mean? After everything she’d been through, she didn’t think she’d feel safe ever again.

“I think he’s dead,” she said numbly. “I...I didn’t kill him, though.”

“Who killed him?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t catch his name. At least...I don’t think I did.”

“Was there an intruder?”

“No...well, yes, but...no.” Aiza held her head, her temples throbbing. She had a sudden spin of vertigo, and for a moment, she thought she might throw up. “God, my head is killing me.”

“Do you need me to pull over?”

She tried to shake her head, but the smallest motion sent another shard of pain through her temple. “I don’t know.”

“If you need to puke, let me know,” he said with a small smile. “Look, maybe we should go to the police.”

Her immediate reaction was to say no, but she bit that back. “In the morning. Please. I just need to rest.”

Noah nodded and she rested her head against the cool window. Her stomach was still roiling, her head hurt and her sides ached. He didn’t speak again and she was grateful for the silence.

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