Total pages in book: 33
Estimated words: 29744 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 149(@200wpm)___ 119(@250wpm)___ 99(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 29744 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 149(@200wpm)___ 119(@250wpm)___ 99(@300wpm)
The pit has been dug.
"Jesus Christ," I growl, snatching the letter out of her hands when she makes a strangled noise. I crumple it, tossing it toward Cash as I spin her around to face me. "It's bullshit, songbird. Do you hear me? It's bullshit."
"It's a psalm," she whispers, her expression wan. "Psalm 94."
"You know it?" Anderson asks.
"I know it," she mumbles. "But whoever wrote this twisted it all up. They made it threatening and ominous. That's not what the psalm is supposed to be. It's a reminder that God knows all, and He alone is responsible for judging. It's supposed to bring comfort, not be used to condemn." She lifts her eyes to me, her expression worried. "I think…I think I know who wrote this."
"Who, songbird? Was it your mom?"
"My mom?" She blinks wide eyes at me. "No, of course not. I think it was her pastor, though. Brother Gibbs used to twist scripture like this all the time. He's…misguided," she says carefully. "He tries to make God in his image. Women in his church aren't allowed to hold jobs. They aren't allowed to do a lot of things. You marry within the church, and you never really leave. You're just kind of stuck."
"Jesus Christ," I growl. "That's not a church, songbird. It's a cult."
"Yeah," she whispers sadly. "I guess it is."
"How did you get out?" Anderson asks.
"My high school counselor." She smiles wistfully. "She convinced me to apply for college and helped me with scholarship applications. When my dad realized they weren't going to have to pay for anything, he figured there wasn't any harm in letting me attend since I wanted to go so badly. Since it was a Christian school, it seemed harmless enough to him. I didn't tell them that I was playing shows around town until I'd signed a contract with Riley. They barely speak to me now."
The tremor in her voice kills me. Fuck her parents. Fuck her former pastor. She always deserved better. There isn't a wicked bone in her body. She may be in Nashville, singing in front of sold out crowds, but she's got better odds of getting into heaven than anyone else I know. She certainly has betters odds than whoever the fuck thinks they have a right to play God and judge and condemn her for following her heart.
"Until testing comes back on the letter and envelope, we'll put a car on him," Anderson says, looking from her to me. "See if we can't find some strong evidence that he's the one behind this. Just keep her out of sight until then."
"Yeah, about that," I mutter. "She has a fashion show to attend tomorrow."
"Cancel it," he says. "The last place she needs to be is a fashion show."
"No."
He looks at her.
"I've done everything you've asked me to do," she says, her voice firm. "I've stayed out of sight. I hired a bodyguard. I've cooperated. I've literally stopped living my life to give you guys time to catch the person responsible. But people are counting on me to be there tomorrow. I'm going."
"We've hired extra security," Riley says. "We'll have a dozen armed guards inside the venue, and a dozen more outside. Everyone who comes in will pass through metal detectors. We've done everything possible to ensure that everyone will be safe tomorrow. If you want to send officers to make it even safer, feel free."
Anderson grinds his teeth together, clearly not pleased that two tiny little women are gainsaying him. But he knows when he's outnumbered. "Fine," he growls, backing down. "But if anything happens, you get to stand in front of the media at the press conference and answer their questions."
"Fine," Riley snaps while Cash glowers at him. "They'd probably prefer to hear from me anyway. At least I actually answer questions."
Anderson leaves before Riley and Cash. I think Riley pissed him off. Sucks for him because she's right. People would rather hear from her than him. She has charisma and charm. He's about as charming as a bear coming out of hibernation.
I leave Winter inside to walk Riley and Cash to Cash's truck after we devise a plan for tomorrow. It's not much of one. Winter and I will get there half an hour before she's set to walk the runway. She'll do her thing, and then we'll duck out the back. By the time the show ends, we'll be long gone. Hopefully, it'll keep the emphasis on Gwen and her design as intended and help keep Winter out of the spotlight as much as possible.
I'd much rather not go at all, but I'm not going to ask her to cancel. This matters to her. Her friends matter to her. Right now, she needs them. She needs to remember that she has people in her corner and that she carved out an incredible life for herself when she walked away from her family and the way she was raised. I think she could use that reminder now more than ever.