# # #
Naomi leaned against Asher’s truck and answered all of the questions the police and first responders asked her.
No,she wasn’t in the house when the deceased took his life.
No,she had no knowledge of drug abuse, financial problems, or any other cause that might have driven her best friend and roommate to tighten a belt around his neck and slowly strangle himself with it.
No, she didn’t know of any other family members who should be contacted about Michael’s death.
There was only her. And the group of parentless kids who were going to be as destroyed as she was to learn that one of the kindest, most compassionate people on Earth was suddenly, inconceivably, gone.
“How many children came and went from Mr. Carson’s home on a regular basis, Ms. Fallon, and what would you estimate their ages to be?”
“Excuse me?”
The female officer from JUSTIS, the law enforcement department comprised of both human and Breed officers, gave her an apologetic look. “I know some of these questions are difficult, but I’m just trying to establish the possible mental state of Mr. Carson in his final hours. Could he have been harboring any secrets or possible guilt pertaining to any of the kids he invited to stay in his house?”
“You can’t be serious.” Naomi gaped, fuming. “No. Of course, not. Michael was the one good thing to happen in any of these kids’ shitty lives.”
The officer lifted her shoulder. “Just trying to cover the bases.”
“Well, consider them covered,” Naomi snapped. “We’re done here.”
Her gaze drifted to the curb where the black zippered bag holding her friend’s body was being loaded off a gurney and into a waiting ambulance.
“Here’s my number,” the JUSTIS officer said, handing her a card with her name on it. “If you think of anything else we should know, just give me a call.”
Naomi stuffed Officer Rachel Reynolds’ card into her pocket without looking at it. She was never going to use it.
She hadn’t told the officer that she already knew what happened to her friend. That Slater or his henchmen had gone after Michael and staged his murder to look like a suicide. She didn’t know the how of it, but she knew the why.
If anyone was harboring unbearable guilt or secrets, it was her.
And now, because of her, her best friend was dead.
Why had she let Michael convince her to let him be part of that last job? He’d been so adamant, but she could have refused him. Dammit, she should have.
As for sharing what she knew about his death with law enforcement, while it might spark an investigation into Slater’s criminal activities, she had zero confidence he would be made to pay for what he’d done to Michael.
Just like he’d never paid for what he did to her mother, either.
Men like Slater were untouchable.
Why she hadn’t come to terms with that fact before it cost Michael his life was a burden she would never be able to put down.
Naomi got in the truck and started the engine. As she backed out of the driveway and onto the street, grief swamped her. It was too deep for tears, the shock wrapping her in a cocoon that seemed to numb her from the inside out. All she wanted to do was curl up in a ball and cry for a week, but she had things she needed to do. Priority One was locating Tyler and the other kids before they scattered to the wind in fear of being taken away somewhere by strangers.
And then she needed to get back to the ranch.
Back home with Asher.
He would know what to do. He would be able to help her find the kids. They could come back to the city tonight as soon as it was dark and start searching until they found them all.
She hadn’t driven two blocks before her phone chimed with a familiar ringtone.
Michael’s ringtone.
For an instant, as she hurried to retrieve the device from her back pocket and saw his number on the screen, she thought she had imagined this whole horrific day. But the icy reality settled in just as quickly when she brought the phone to her ear and heard an airless, menacing voice on the other end of the line.
