I stared at the bag, but I could barely see through the haze.
“Ma’am, stop moving.”
“I ain’t moving,” I snapped, even though my entire body was trembling so violently it probably looked like I was having a grand mal seizure.
Another officer emerged from the hallway holding a second evidence bag.
My keys.
Then another.
Rich’s chain.
Every breath started feeling thinner.
I tried to keep my face straight anyway. Tried to force the panic back down where it belonged. Because fear made people talk too much. Made them stop thinking.
Right now, I needed to think, and most importantly, I needed to know where Booda was.
“Get her up.”
The officer standing beside me grabbed my arm before I could brace myself.
Pain ripped through my shoulder as they hauled me to my feet so fast my knees almost buckled underneath me, and for a second, I thought I might throw up.
“Walk,” somebody barked.
“I am walking,” I snapped, even though they were practically dragging me.
My bare feet scraped across the hardwood as they shoved me forward through the wreckage.
The front door hung wide open. Red and blue lights flashed through the windows, washing across the walls in violent bursts. The living room was destroyed. Couch cushions were ripped apart. My coffee table was flipped over. Glass, more than last time, covered the front area and the kitchen.
Jesus Christ.
This was a lot.
My nosy neighbors were outside. I could feel it.
People always gathered for shit like this. Especially when police hit somebody’s house deep in the middle of the night. Half the complex was probably standing around watching right now, pretending they weren’t.
An officer shoved me harder between my shoulders.
“Hurry up.”
My head pounded with every step.
Then I saw several long shadows stretch across the concrete outside the front door as police hauled someone away.
They were surrounded.
My heart stopped.
Booda.
I twisted so hard the officer holding me cursed.
“Wait—”
