Snitches Get Stiches (Lola)

(Lola)

The drive to the police station was quiet for the most part, Forster’s attention fixed on the road as he drove the swanky BMW (not remotely a cop car) through the busy streets. While Miller had his head buried deep in his phone, his fingers flying rapidly over the keyboard.

I had left the apartment without telling anyone where I was going or grabbing my purse to avoid Sam getting caught. So I took the opportunity now to send a quick text, from my own phone, not to Sam, but Tats.

Me to Tats:

I’ve gone with the cops. I don’t have my keys, so please don’t go anywhere. Pop’s formula is in the cupboard above the kettle, and the nappies are in the dispenser; if you need anything else, call Eleanor.