Page 65 of East

If that isn’t the understatement of the fucking century⁠—

I’m about to open my mouth to respond when we turn onto the street where I live.

And my heart sinks.

Cop cars. Sirens and flashing lights. Up and down my entire block.

All concentrated in front of my driveway.

My breath catches in my throat.

Aus widens his eyes. “I don’t suppose that’s your house, is it?”

I nod slowly, still unable to speak.

He grabs my left hand, laces his fingers through it. “They can’t be searching your place without a warrant. All we have to do is get you inside, close the blinds, and pretend like none of this has ever happened. We’ll call an attorney in the morning.”

“Okay,” is all I’m able to say.

I desperately need to get to bed after the last thirty-six hours, but I’m realizing now my night has only just begun.

Aus snakes around the cop cars and parks in my driveway.

Already I know he was wrong. My front door is open.

My home is being invaded.

My home.

The panic melts away to fiery rage. I whip my seatbelt off and bolt out of the car into my house. “Excuse me,” I call out loudly. “Who’s in charge here?”

One of the cops points to a man in a long silver jacket. He has dark stringy hair and a long scar going down his face. He’s extremely tall, and on his feet are dark cowboy boots with sharp spurs.

He’s an imposing figure, but I don’t give a fraction of a fuck right now. I walk right up to him and stand in his face. “On whose authority are you invading my home?”

He looks at me, his eyes narrowed, and extends a hand. “Detective Wheeler. Dorothea Storm, I presume?”

“I’m not shaking the hand of a man who has forced his way into my home without a warrant,” I say.

He draws his hand back, reaches into a pocket of his jacket, and produces a piece of paper. “Good thing we do have a warrant then.”

I drop my jaw as I grab the piece of paper from him and scan it.

It looks legit.

“How on earth did you get this so fast?”

Wheeler shrugs. “No idea. Some things get pushed through. You piss off anyone in the city legislature?”

“I don’t even know anyone in the city legislature.”

“Then, ma’am, I don’t know what to tell you. We’re just doing our job, and right now our job is to search your home.” He gestures toward a couch in my living room. “You’re welcome to sit down.”

I laugh humorlessly. “You’re inviting me to sit down on my own fucking couch?”

“Ma’am, I⁠—”

“Don’t ma’am me, Detective.” I poke at his chest hard. “I’ve done nothing wrong.”