Takeover Read Online Free PDF

woman to take over for you when he told you to go home early. I know this sort of thing happens all the time, but it still doesn’t make things right, you know. Bosses will have an affair with someone that works for them, and then just drop them without so much as an explanation. Next thing you know, he’s off doing the same thing to somebody else.”
    Yes, I’m offended at the suggestion, but I’m not about to play this guy’s game. When I’m able to contact my lawyer, things will get worked out; I’ll be released and the police can start looking for the real killer.
    “I wonder,” the detective says again.
    We finally pull up to the police department. I had assumed that they’d be taking me straight to jail, but apparently that’s not the first item on the agenda.
    “Well,” the detective says, “we’re here. I’ll be around to let you out of the back in a moment, and we’ll get you all processed in so you can start enjoying your new life. You’ll have a blast. There are people to meet, activities to keep you busy... If you play your cards right, you can even pick up a degree or two if you decide to stick to the slanted and thin.”
    I’m assuming that “slanted and thin” is a reference to how things in prison are never quite straight and narrow, but I’m not about to ask for clarification.
    The detective finally gets out of the car and waits for a pair of officers before opening my door. As they pull me out, I can’t help wondering how James is doing. I’m concerned about what the officer did to him but, to be honest, right now I’m a little more concerned about what he must be thinking of me. I keep trying to tell myself that he loves me and that he believes me, but there’s that same awkward teenage girl in there, telling me that he thinks I’m a murderer. It’s making me physically ill.
    “All right, Miss Pearson,” one of the officers says, “we’re going to book you in. Remember, you can waive your right to remain silent at any time. It might just help to make this whole process go a lot—”
    “You’re wasting your breath,” the detective says. “This one’s real cold. One of the worst I’ve seen, probably.”
    I know he’s baiting me, but somehow that last statement really digs into me, lodging itself directly under my skin. “I am not a murderer,” I hiss in a voice that I hardly recognize, “and I sure as hell am not a psychopath.”
    “She speaks,” the detective says. “Am I to understand that you’re waiving your rights?”
    “Lawyer,” is the only other word that I say.
    “Oh well,” the detective says. “Put her through. Let me know when you’re all done. Right now, I’ve got to get back to that floater. Third body we’ve found like that this month. It looks like someone’s out there that might almost be as bad as this one,” he says as he walks back to his car.
    *                    *                    *
    I still don’t know what it was that Melissa said that made the detective so sure that I’m the one who killed Mr. McDaniel, but it must have been pretty convincing. I’ve been sitting in this filthy interrogation room for what seems like a week, and nobody’s so much as poked their head in since I was cuffed to the table.
    For the first hour or so, I tried not to look too closely at the walls, but I’ve been in here so long that there’s not much else for me to do. There’s a spot of dark splattered something which I can only assume is blood on one of the walls. When I bother to look closely enough, I can see the side-to-side streaking which indicates that someone at least went over the spot with a paper towel, but hadn’t bothered to go much further with their cleanup.
    The desk to which I’m bound has a little ring on the top through which my shackles go. It’s otherwise unremarkable except for a black divot on one of the corners opposite of me which looks almost like it’s been melted into the