Page 75 of Broken
“Can you check with him?”
“I don’t have to. It’s sitting unused since Liv moved out.”
“Are you sure?”
“Absolutely.” Addison texted her the address along with the six-digit code to his condo. “I have complete confidence you and Prescott will find the killer.”
“Thank you,” Jacqueline replied. “A lot is riding on this.”
She wanted to ask Addison about her job at ALPHA, but burners could be monitored like any other cell phone, so she closed with, “Thank you for offering me a place to stay.”
The line went dead as Jacqueline drove down her sister’s street. After parking in the driveway, she cut the engine, and sat there mulling Addison’s offer. While it would be great to stay in a furnished condo, Z had arranged for her to work this case.
I should probably ask him directly.
On the other hand, she had money.
I can afford to rent a place. But if I go that route, I’ll need to look for something. That’ll take time I don’t have.
She wanted to start working first thing tomorrow, so finding a place today would help her achieve that goal. She could live at her boss’s spare condo or stay at her lover’s house.
Or I can check with Leslie. We were close once. It could be fun.
Jacqueline made her way to the front door, rang the bell, and waited.
When Leslie didn’t answer, Jacqueline started typing out a text. “Hey sis, I’m back in town and wanted to see—”
The door opened. Leslie’s musician friend stood there, the black knit cap on his head, his long dark hair resting on his chest. Dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, he stood there staring at her.
A few seconds passed before he broke into a grin. “Hey, you’re the sister, right? How you doin’?
“Is Leslie here?”
“She’s on a modeling gig. You wanna come in and wait?”
“Will she be home soon?”
“Sure.” He swung the door wide.
Jacqueline stepped inside and he shut the door.
“I was hanging on the back deck.” He headed toward the kitchen. “Can I getcha something to drink?”
Jacqueline followed. He opened the fridge, pulled out a can of soda, and offered it to her.
“I’m good, thanks.”
He popped the top, drank some down, and gestured to the deck.
Once outside, she eyed the thick layer of yellowy-green pollen covering the white patio chairs and white table. He left the glass slider open, and sat.
“Pull up a chair,” he said.
“I’m fine.”
“Sorry, the furniture could use a wipe down,” he said.
Rather than do anything about it, he tossed back more soda.
