Don't Make a Sound (Sawyer Brooks #1)(2)

“Geezer called in sick.”

Geezer was a crime scene photographer who worked closely with the Sacramento Independent’s top crime reporter, Sean Palmer. “So?”

“He said you can hold your own when it comes to taking pictures.”

She nodded. Waited.

“There’s been a homicide. Forrest Hill Apartments in West Sac. Palmer wants you there ASAP. He said to bring your gear.”

“What the hell?” She pushed her fingers through her hair in frustration. “Why didn’t you tell me five minutes ago?”

A thick brow shot upward. “Because I need the snake story on my desk by seven tonight.”

She’d pissed him off. “I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to curse at you.”

He said nothing.

She turned away to shut down her computer. Working with Sean Palmer had been a goal of hers since she’d graduated from California State University, Sacramento. Running through a checklist in her mind, she grabbed her backpack, sliding the straps over her shoulder as it dawned on her that she needed to run home to get her camera. Pivoting on her feet, she was surprised to see Coleman still standing there. “Something else?”

“Are you sure you’re ready for this? A woman was brutally murdered. From what I’ve heard, it’s a grisly sight.” He looked overly concerned.

“Are you kidding me? All I’ve wanted since I got this job was to work side by side with Sean Palmer and learn from the best.”

“But that’s not what you’ll be doing. Your job today will be to take pictures.” He sighed. “And that’s only if you can get anywhere near the crime scene.”

“I get it,” she said.

“You’re not to get in anyone’s way.”

“Got it.” It was a tight squeeze, exiting her cubicle with Coleman in the way, but she managed.

“Seven p.m.,” he called after her.

A reminder to get the snake story on his desk, pronto. Without turning around, she raised a hand in acknowledgment. Outside, she ran across the parking lot, the dead boy forgotten.

Nine a.m., and already the July heat was proving to be brutal. The kind of extreme heat that made tree branches break and animals pant.

She slid into her car, a second-generation Honda Civic with a rusty baby-blue exterior and tan interior. The engine jumped when she turned the key. A clunker, but it got her where she needed to go. She had no plans to put old Suzy out to pasture.

Despite traffic and hitting a red light, she made a concerted effort not to speed as she drove to East Sacramento. She made a left on San Antonio Way, and as she neared the house of her boyfriend, Connor, she spotted a car she didn’t recognize in the driveway.

She pulled to the curb across from the house and shut off the engine.

A visitor? Had Connor been expecting someone, and that was why he’d rushed her out of the house this morning? Her pulse quickened as she walked toward the entrance. Connor was a bit of a slob. Maybe he’d finally hired someone to clean. A few more scenarios played through her head as she slipped the key into the lock and opened the front door.

Music was playing. It wasn’t blaring, but it was loud enough to cover the sound of her footfalls as she made her way down the hallway to the bedroom. The door was ajar. She nudged it open, and when she stepped inside, she couldn’t take her eyes off Connor’s naked ass as it rose and fell. The girl beneath him had big eyes that grew even bigger when she noticed Sawyer standing there.

“Really?” Sawyer asked.

Connor must have been focused on what he was doing, because the girl had to use both hands to push him off her and then gesture at Sawyer.

Connor peeked over his shoulder. His face was red from exertion, which made sense considering this was the hardest she’d ever seen him work.

For some reason, Sawyer wasn’t surprised. Not that Connor had ever cheated on her . . . that she knew of. It just somehow fit. Connor had no integrity and only his own interests in mind. And what annoyed her at the moment was that she’d ever moved in with him to begin with.

The girl used the sheet to cover herself. Connor slid off the bed. His dick was still hard, springing forth and wobbling a bit like a diving board.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“What am I doing?” Sawyer laughed, then thought about Geezer being out sick and Sean Palmer at Forrest Hill Apartments, waiting for her. She didn’t have time for this. “I need my camera.” She walked to the closet and searched through clothes and shoes. Her camera bag had been pushed to the back corner. She opened it, made sure she had an extra battery and plenty of memory cards before zipping it closed, and headed back the way she’d come.

Connor followed close behind. “Where are you going?” he asked.

“Back to work,” she said. “It’s what people do to pay the bills. You should try it sometime.”

He grabbed her arm. She shrugged it off.

“Come on,” he said. “We need to talk about this.”

“No. We don’t. It’s over.”

“We haven’t had sex in months. What was I supposed to do?”

When she reached the door, she turned toward him. “Don’t sweat it. You’re like every guy I’ve ever known. I’ll grab my things later.”

Walking toward her car, she saw a shadow underneath the frame by the front tire. It was a cat. “Come on,” she said, trying to coax the animal out. “I’m in a hurry.”