Running Hot by Jacob long (the lemonade war series .txt) 📕

then maybe you can tell me why you’re wearing this?” Matt grabbed the tight black material on Kolden’s arm and shook it gently.
Kolden looked at it for a moment, and then said, “I don’t know, they must have put it on me.”
“But why?” Matt asked.
“I don’t know…” Kolden was silent for a while. “Maybe…they were trying to pin me as the murderer, and not them.”
Matt scratched his forehead. “Maybe.”
He stood and paced around Kolden. “Okay, so you don’t know where you were when they found you, what you were doing, or what they did to you?”
Kolden shook her head innocently.
Suddenly Nitch burst into the room. “Alright, where is she?”
Matt indicated her with a motion of his hand.
“Elaine, we just got a bunch of calls from the hospital about a murder, and a body theft and a Reed Newton sighting, and all of it occurred just before you were dropped off by Newton! I want answers!” the sergeant barked.
“I don’t have any answers!” Kolden screamed back, almost on the verge of tears. “They drugged me, I don’t remember anything!”
Matt jumped into the conversation. “Oh really? Just a second ago you said you didn’t know what they did to you.”
Kolden gave him the puppy dog eyes in response.
Nitch groaned and waved her away. “Okay Matt, what do you think their next move is?”
Matt looked out the window and said, “It’s getting dark, and Newton seems hell-bent on staying in the city. They’ll probably be looking for a place to stay.”
“Great, we’ll search all the hotels in the area,” Nitch said, “Assemble one team for each hotel; I want you to head up this operation yourself.”
“Me?” Matt asked.
“Yes.” Nitch stabbed his finger at him. “You know Newton, you know his mentality, you go find him! Now go!”
Matt was stunned by Nitch’s frustration. “Fine, I’m on my way, sir.”
Matt grabbed his jacket and headed out the door. There were only two hotels in the area and one of them kept a log of the clientele.

Night had fallen at the hotel and the guys and girls were in their respective rooms. Reed had been lying on the bed for quite some time now, staring at the ceiling while Devlin watched “Mortal Kombat” on the television. Suddenly there was a knock at the door and Reed heaved himself off of the bed to answer it. When he opened the door he gazed upon none other than the angelic visage of Angela Cook.
“What?” Reed muttered.
“What kind of way is that to answer the door?” Angela asked in a sort of light-hearted outrage.
Reed didn’t answer, he simply waited in the doorway with a stone look on his face waiting for her to state her business.
After a moment Angela shook her head and said. “Anyway, I came to tell you to take a shower.”
Reed’s eyebrows furrowed instantly. “What?”
“I don’t mean to mother you Reed, but I figured now would be a good chance for you to clean yourself up; there’s also a coin laundry downstairs so I can wash your clothes too,” Angela explained.
“Fine,” Reed said, turning and walking into the room. He pulled off his jacket and threw it onto the bed; then he went into the bathroom and peeled off his sweaty Pink Floyd T-shirt and passed it to Angela.
Angela spotted the small black pouch hanging from the string on his neck and giggled. “Oh yeah, did you flip your coin yet?”
Reed stopped unzipping his pants and looked at the pouch. “Oh, no I didn’t.”
“Well let’s see!” Angela beamed.
Reed removed the trinket and pulled out a small nickel coin. It wasn’t a fancy coin; quite plain really. A simple arcade token from the 1980’s with a smiling clown face on one side and a message on the other that read “NO CASH VALUE.”
“Oh great and wise coin of prosperity,” Angela started, “does this new venture of Reed’s bear the promise of monetary gain?”
Reed flipped the coin into the air and caught it in the same hand; most people would have finished the ritual by slapping the coin onto the back of their other hand but Reed didn’t believe in that; he simply opened his hand to reveal a smiling clown face.
“Hah! Fortune smiles, another day of wine and roses for us,” Angela said. Then turning to Devlin, “or in your case, beer and pizza!”
“I don’t know why you guys flip that stupid coin for,” Devlin said in response. “It doesn’t actually influence your decision of whether or not to proceed.”
Angela blew raspberry in his direction.
Reed laughed and continued to strip down to his boxers, tossing the pouch onto the sink and handing the rest of the articles of clothing to Angela. Finally he was down to just his “Knight Rider” boxers.
Angela smiled at the age-old under garment and said, “Those too, come on.”
Reed gave Angela an unamused look but pushed the door closed just enough to leave a crack. After a moment of silence Reed’s hand popped out from behind the door with the Trans-am adorned under-garment in its clutches. Angela grabbed the boxers and left the room.
Reed stepped into the shower and turned on the water. After a few minutes of scrubbing his hand passed over the bump on his chest and his whole body came to an abrupt stop. He stood there, water cascading down his body, his eyes frozen, unwilling to look at the spot. Reed knew he must; whether his eyes would let him or not he would not forget the pain. He forced his neck to bend; to look at the area; at the scar in the shape of kissing lips and the tattoo that would not let him forget her name. There on his chest, inscribed in the horrible black ink just below the wound reading: “From Charlotte, with Love.” Reed closed his eyes and imagined her face; red hair, green eyes, and a mischievous smile bewitching fair. His heart felt like it might explode right then. He squeezed his eyes shut in a grimace trying to find the strength to bear it all.

Angela went downstairs to the laundry room and popped in the coins along with the load; then she sat down on a table and opened an issue of “People” magazine. Before she could even read the first sentence she came to a revelation and her eyes jumped from the page. She’d just told Reed to take a shower…which never ended well. For the longest time she wondered why Reed always came out of the shower in a bad mood; but once she saw the tattoo she understood. Reed would want to drink and Angela figured she would save him the trip by seeing if the hotel had a winery. She got up and walked out of the laundry room in a rush.

Matthew Brice and two other officers in a separate car pulled up to the Marriott hotel and got out. Together they walked in and up to the front desk.
Matt spoke. “Hello, we’re here from the Camden P.D. looking for a dangerous fugitive by the name of Reed Newton. He’s um, about six-foot-two with messy brown hair and he’s been known to frequently wear leather jackets. Anyone like that check in here?”
The clerk shook his head, holding up his end of the deal. “No, no one like that at all.”
Matt looked at the two officers and they turned to leave. “Thanks anyway,” Matt said.
The clerk nodded in acknowledgement as Matt left as well. Matt went back out into the constantly chilling air just as the other two officers were getting in their car. He looked around and noticed that one of the cars in the parking lot had one of their rear reflectors busted. He walked over to the car and saw that it was an early model Plymouth Barracuda whose taillights had been shot out! Matt gasped and ran back toward the police officers, but they pulled out of the parking lot and didn’t notice him.
“Guys wait! He’s here! His car’s here and everything!” Matt shouted, but to no avail; the cops were gone.
Matt slowed to a stop and sighed, then he looked back at the hotel. A determined look spread over his face and he stomped back in without thinking.
“Back again, I see,” the clerk said cheerily.
Matt suddenly grabbed him by the collar and yanked him over the counter up to his face. “Alright, where is he?” he growled.
“Who?” the clerk tried to maintain innocence.
“Reed Newton!” Matt barked. “I know he’s here. I saw his car parked outside. Now you tell me where he is and maybe I won’t bust you for aiding and abetting a known fugitive!”
The clerk’s face changed from fear to consideration, then he said, “Third floor, room 3-22.”
“Good.” Matt dropped him and ran up the stairs.

Reed got out of the shower and toweled off; drying his hair with the towel and then neglecting to comb it back into place like usual. He pulled on one of the MARRIOT HOTEL robes and stepped back out into the room. Devlin was still watching T.V. and there was absolutely nothing quiet about it. He needed time to ponder so he went out into the halls. Maybe he’d go get something to drink, too.
Reed covered his eyes with his hand in typical miserable fashion and staggered blindly down the halls.
“Reed Newton,” a stern voice said.
Reed uncovered his eyes to gaze upon a police detective with a .40 caliber Beretta trained on him.
“Exactly how I expected to find you,” Matt continued, “in an expensive suite, living like a bigwig.”
Reed raised an eyebrow and answered, “This isn’t mine,” indicating the robe.
“It doesn’t matter,” Matt said. “You’re under arrest for the murder of David Jacobs.”
“I didn’t kill Laurel’s husband,” Reed defended. “It’s your dirty damn cops. I can’t prove it yet, but I will. Just ask your colleague, Kolden.”
Matt’s face changed to one of mild shock, but only for a moment; then he shook his head and got back on topic. “Whatever, where is Laurel, too? You’re both under arrest.”
“I don’t think I’ll let you arrest me today, Detective,” Reed said.
Suddenly Matt heard a feminine grunt of exerted force, and then he felt something outrageously hard hit him on the back of the head. His vision darkened and he collapsed to the ground, face first.
“I’m surprised the bottle didn’t break,” Angela said.
“What kind is it?” Reed asked.
“Um, Brandy,” she answered.
Reed let out a “Blech.”

Amidst all of the commotion, no one was aware that Laurel had all of the answers in her hand as she sat quietly in her room.
“Who’s justice?” she whispered to herself in the darkness. “David’s justice.” After moment of thought she raised her voice to the security box. “Justice.” The box beeped in response and kicked open. Laurel gaped at her good fortune and began pulling out the evidence.
Everything was there; pictures of people involved, an itinerary David compiled from several other pieces of evidence, and a note.

Laurel; if you are reading this then I have indeed failed and a terrible burden now rests on your shoulders. I am most likely unable to help you physically anymore but I have left these copies of my investigation to help you bring the hammer of justice down on their heads.
I have uncovered the terrible truth that many high ranking officers in the Camden police department are involved in this scheme. This scheme I speak of is a heist that is targeted at a bank van carrying over $2,000,000 to the Commerce Bank at 501 Mickle Blvd. The money is a grant that will