Chapter Eleven
Despite our attempts to draw her back out, Danielle had finally gone silent.
I couldn’t speak for Logan, but I needed a mindset shift—one that did not include either A) utilizing my super ninja skillset to kick her door down or B) hurling newly-crafted expletives into the universe at the top of my lungs. The latter was far more plausible. I realized I was in desperate need of sleep and suddenly retreating to my room to rest my weary bones—and mind—sounded like a dream.
And weary I was.
Bone. Tired.
Yet, thanks to Danielle, I was feeling too frustrated, agitated, fussy, and discombobulated for rest. My trip to L.A. thus far had been a bust. I had not only accomplished nothing, but I had also wasted time in the process and was nowhere closer to reeling in a killer.
The h
