16
ALI
I puked when I got home, and barely slept all night. When I did, I dreamed of dead bodies and blood and Theo and Holt dying while I watched. Pulling the trigger and watching Holt, then Theo, buckle from the bullets that struck them was on a perpetual loop in my brain.
I woke to the crunch of tires over gravel at a time when no cars should be pulling down our drive.
I leaped out of bed and flew to the window, my heart in my throat.
Fuck!
One van and two cars drove swiftly in a line and parked in front of the house. The doors opened and officers wearing shirts, sweatshirts and jackets emblazoned with the letters DEA poured out.
I shot a glance at my dresser, where the evidence of my crime still lay—Theo’s and Holt’s wallets, their weapons, and their phones. I’d saved them, hopi
