The Masterpiecers (Masterful #1) Read Free

there, but it becomes unbearable. I’m about to go off on her when I hear my name called out.
    “Aster Redd, you got a visitor.”
    A visitor? I wipe the surprise off my face before Dreadlocks can spot it. Why wouldn’t I have visitors? I know people. I quickly grab my tray, dump the half-eaten contents, and set it on the shelving. Then I stride through the metal detector and past the guard who’s holding the door open for me. I imagine I’m going through a portal that will lead me out of here, but I end up in a sterile corridor irradiated by zinging strips of too-bright neon.
    Through the glass door of the visitation area, I can make out Josh’s familiar broad shoulders. When the guard buzzes me through the door, I hurry to where he’s sitting and plop down. He’s dressed in his police uniform and sports dark circles beneath his green eyes.
    “Hi,” I say, my voice a little airy from the thrill of seeing him. Even though we’re no longer together, I can’t help my heart from beating faster in his presence. I’ve loved him since we were five and have never stopped, not even after the awful morning six months ago…not even after we decided to take a break from each other.
    “Hey.” He scans my face. It practically feels as though he’s touching it.
    I shiver. His hands were always so soft, so much softer than mine. Then again, at the pizzeria where I serve and do the dishes, I have my hands in water half the day.
    “The chief okayed my involvement.”
    I let out a sigh of relief.
    “Look”—he takes the little notepad peeking out of his shirt pocket and the tiny ballpoint pen hooked into the spiral binding. It’s the one I bought him when we were still together. The ink tip comes out when you shake it—“I really don’t feel like you’re telling me everything, so let’s go over this again.”
    “But I—”
    “Just humor me.”
    “Fine.” I look down at the chipped edge of the table. “I was counting up tips when this guy walked in to pick up his takeout. Everyone had left.”
    “You mean all the customers?”
    “I mean everyone . I was in charge of locking up.”
    “What did he order?”
    I fling my gaze back up to his. “A pepperoni pizza.”
    His eyes hover over mine. “I dropped by the pizzeria and asked Abby for a receipt. She didn’t find anything. Not even a credit card slip.”
    “He paid cash.”
    “What about the receipt?”
    “It must be there. She must not have looked well.”
    Josh rubs the back of his short brown hair. “So he bought a pepperoni pizza…then what?”
    “As he was paying, I thought I recognized him from somewhere. It took me a second to realize it was from that file you keep on your desk.”
    He sighs and it resonates deep inside his chest. “Which you shouldn’t have seen.”
    “But I did. He was a wanted criminal.”
    “Granted, but you’re not a detective, Aster.”
    “I know, but he was right there.”
    “You should’ve called me.”
    “I tried.”
    “No, you didn’t.”
    “I did.”
    “Aster,” he growls.
    “Okay, fine. I didn’t. But that’s only because he was getting into his car. So I locked up fast and got into mine. My cell phone didn’t have any more battery.”
    Josh fixes me so intensely that I fold my arms in front of my chest.
    “I got him. Isn’t that what matters?” I ask.
    “He was wanted alive.”
    “He tried to yank me out of the car. I reacted.” My heart’s beating faster, pumping blood that feels like fire through my body. “I didn’t think I’d killed him. It was an accident.”
    “Was it?” he whispers loudly.
    “Yes! I’m not a murderer, Josh.”
    He fixes me as though trying to x-ray my scalp to peer inside my mind. “I got an anonymous tip.”
    “An anonymous tip?”
    He nods and leans his muscular forearms onto the fake wood table. Josh spends equal time at the gym and at work. For the longest time, I thought he would become a sports coach instead of an officer. “Someone saw you that night.