Chase’s best guess had been three hours.
She was wrong: photographs of the body were online in under an hour. To make things worse, there were several of her in the shot, sprinting toward the body that hung nude in the distance. In the photo, her face was almost unrecognizable.
Old.
“Shit,” she grumbled, forcing herself to turn off her computer monitor.
Another body, another book.
Chase picked up the phone and dialed down to records.
“Dunbar? Tell me you managed to narrow down the search for the author? For R.S. Germaine?”
Dunbar hesitated before answering, and Chase felt her stomach drop.
“No. Nothing yet. But we have another problem.”
Chase frowned.
“What?”
“The book—Red Smile? It’s rising up the ranks. Jumped up to sub 8k in the last hour.”
Chase closed her eyes.
“What does that mean, Dunbar? Speak English.”
“It means that it’s starting to move. People are buying it.”
Chase’s eyes snapped open.
This was turning out to be the worst day ever. Starting with the goddamn debacle of a press conference. Before she could reply, there was a heavy knock on her office door.
“Hold on a sec,” she told Dunbar as she stood and made her way toward it.
When she opened it, she felt her heart sink all the way to the pit of her stomach.
Less than two months ago, Officers Lincoln and Herd from Internal Affairs had come for Sergeant Rhodes. Today, they were here for her.