BREN
“You want a coffee?”
His name was Detective Brennan. That was the name on the card he gave me the night before, and that’s who I asked for when I came to the station. It took longer than I thought to get here. Cross showed me how much he enjoyed when I wore my ripped jeans.
The detective had come out almost right away, but he looked harried. He showed me to a back room, indicated I could have a seat and was now at the door, waiting my response to his question.
“Uh. Sure.”
He nodded. “Cream? Sugar?”
“Both.”
He left and I pulled my phone out, sending a text to Channing.
Me: I’m here.
Channing: At his desk?
Me: A room.
I waited, expecting a quick response. My brother was usually good about that unless he was in the middle of something with Heather or his job. When it took a li
