Page 147 of Hello, Summer
“What’s that street number?”
“Uh, I don’t know. It’s uh, between Liberty and, well, I can’t see the sign.”
“Can you describe the situation?”
“Hell yes,” Buddy said. “There’s a woman in that house, and a cop just kicked in the door.”
“Sir? That’s one of our officers. He was dispatched to that address after the resident called for assistance.”
“No,” Buddy insisted. “This guy, he’s been stalking this woman. I watched him—he’s been following her for the past week.”
“Okay,” the dispatcher said, sounding unconvinced. “I’ll let the officer on the way to the scene know about your concern.”
“So do you have a cop on the way?” Buddy asked. He sounded hysterical, he knew.
“Yes, sir.”
“Well, where the hell is he? This guy just kicked in the door.”
“He’s en route,” the dispatcher said.
Conley stared up at the black-garbed figure who’d just forced his way into the house. She’d been knocked to the floor when the door flew open.
The cop. She knew him. Popps. He was Skelly’s friend, the deputy who’d been at the crash the night Symmes Robinette was killed.
He grabbed her by the forearm and jerked her upright, and she yelped. “What are you doing?”
He smiled, his perfect white teeth gleaming in contrast to his deeply tanned face.
“Hey. You wanna hang out now?”
It was the voice. The same voice on the phone.
“Why?” she managed, still in shock. “Why are you doing this?”
He squeezed her arm, and she yelped again in pain. “I asked you out. I asked nicely. You think you’re too good to date a cop?”
“No. Why are you doing this? I don’t even know you.” She looked around, wondering what had happened to her phone. She’d been about to tap Skelly’s number. Had the call gone through?
“What are you looking at?” He saw the phone on the floor and brought his boot down on it with full force. “Sorry, no phone-a-friend for you.” He laughed. “Why am I doing this?” he asked in a singsongy voice. “You got me fired, bitch.”
“I didn’t,” she protested.
He grabbed a handful of her hair and twisted it so hard she screamed in pain.
“You told Goggins I screwed up the Robinette investigation.”
“No,” she said.
“Not even a suspension. The sumbitch fired me. You know what that does to my career? I’m in the shitter. All because of you.”
“I didn’t get you fired,” she repeated.
“So maybe you do like me. Cool. Let’s hang out. Like at my place.” His eyes skimmed meaningfully down her body. “Or we could just stay right here. Bedroom’s upstairs, right?”
“I called 911,” Conley said, willing herself to stay calm. “Right after you called. There’s a patrol car on the way.”
He shrugged. “So we’ll go to my place.”
