Just One More by Just One More (retail) (epub)

Just One More by Just One More (retail) (epub)

Author:Just One More (retail) (epub)
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Epub3
Publisher: Penzler Publishers


CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

BECCA

The evening following the arrest, I go on autopilot for Ivy until I get her down for the night. The twins are still with their dad. I reheat some leftovers for myself, but instead of eating, I pick at the food as I remember Rick’s arrest. How could Andrus go after Rick so soon after we handed him a list of leads on a silver platter? What about the guy in the white van?

I call Detective Andrus and leave a message. “Hey, detective. Becca Kalos here. I saw the news today, and um, well, I couldn’t help but wonder if you’d taken a look at the leads I sent over the other day. Could you call me? Thanks.”

Somehow, I sound polite, even though I’m raging inside. The cops have let themselves be blinded.

I try to call Andrus again—maybe he’ll pick up?—but my phone rings with an incoming call. It’s Mark from work.

“Hey,” I say.

“Becca, hi. I’ve been thinking about you ever since . . .” His voice trails off.

“Yeah,” I say, saving him the need to expound on how everyone in the conference room watched Rick’s arrest on live TV.

“Why don’t you stay home tomorrow? Take a bit of a break. Take the rest of the week off. You’ve been under a lot of pressure.”

Pressure feels like an understatement, but I don’t know what else to call this sense of unreality, of swirling in emotional chaos. I’m unable to concentrate on anything. It’s a good thing the twins are with their dad; I don’t want them to see me like this. Davis would worry, and Maggie would be her hyped-up, cheerful self, bouncing—often literally—on the couch or even foot to foot as she excitedly tells stories.

“You’re right,” I say. “My team will do fine working on the Alcestis campaign for a day without me.”

After a slight pause and a chuckle, Mark says, “Who are you and what did you do with control-freak Becca?”

I manage a light chuckle too, rather surprised myself that for once, I’m not worried about what my team will do with a campaign without my constant supervision. They’re competent. They’re the best in the business. They know the standard I expect.

And I desperately need a break.

“Thanks, Mark. You’re the best. I really appreciate it. See you Monday.”

“Or Tuesday, if you need another day.”

I’m not about to commit to that, but I won’t reject it either. “We’ll see. Thanks for the offer.”

“Absolutely,” he says. “And seriously, let me know how else I can help.”

My eyes sting as they tear up. Refusing to cry, I shake my head and blink a bunch to get rid of the tears. “Will do,” I say. “Thanks.”

The next morning, I take Ivy on a long walk in her stroller. I take her to a park, though she’s too little to do anything but sit in the baby swing and giggle as I push her. When I’ve exhausted ideas for entertaining her outside the house, we go back home with Mexican takeout for me and plans to binge nineties romantic comedies.



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