Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 94686 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 473(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94686 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 473(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
I slung the binder back and picked up Wendy’s next. Hers was just as full as everyone else’s, except hers didn’t have the elegance of high-priced psychologists’ evaluations or discussions on boarding schools. Wendy lived like Jazz and I did. She was straight gutter.
I propped my feet on the table and sat back for an interesting read.
Wendy also known as Prudence Jacobs. Born in a small town in South Carolina. No father on the birth certificate. Home-schooled in a trailer with six other siblings, which meant no true education at all, not with all those babies running around. Stepdad is the pastor of a holiness church, which explains the home schooling. The only time she got to leave the house was for spiritual theater? What the fuck is that? Acting for God?
I flipped through some more of it. Tons of flyers from plays where Wendy held the leading role. She’d been Mary during a Christmas play. It looked like something churches put together for the parents. Some of the later programs appeared more professional and ended with several advertisements of her acting with the town’s religious troupe. Browsing the various flyers, I realized she’d acted out many religious characters. Some I knew. Others I’d never heard of—Queen Esther, John the Baptist’s mother, Elizabeth, and even Bathsheba. For some reason the ads and announcements of her theater involvement stopped when she turned seventeen.
Things got interesting once she left home after eighteen. I checked the date. Her birthday fell on the day after her high school graduation. Three years were missing after that. The investigator’s reports have all types of logical explanations, probably to cover his ass on why he couldn’t dig anything up after that time. Next blot of information began when Prudence appears in a driver’s license as Wendy Jacobs. Three other driver’s licenses from three other states all show that same name.
Why did you need four different driver’s licenses that year? What were you doing?
It had to be shady. I knew enough to understand that multiple identities translated to many different hustles.
What’s yours, Wendy?
Sighing, I rubbed my eyes, not really sure I’d learned anymore about the situation from going over their binders. I needed more time to read and dissect them, more moments by myself to really get to know these chicks. It would’ve taken far less time to actually meet each one, sit down and talk to her for a few minutes, and discover who was doing what. I barely needed five minutes alone with them to know.
Recognizing a killer was something I had a knack for. I’d lived with killers all my life, in and out of jail. Some in my county would say my brothers were the top killers of all, but then most never met Benny. Murderers had a different swag about them. Violence radiated from their flesh even when their faces were twisted into a grin.
And their eyes were never right.
My brother Sherman said I philosophized too much, but that wasn’t it. I swore I really could see the difference from a sane person and one not all there. It was like this movie where aliens took over humans, but it was hard for most people to tell who was human and who wasn’t. If I remembered correctly, the humans who had been taken over by aliens had these red dots on the whites of their human eyes, so most wore glasses. That was how I spotted a killer. Each one had these metaphorical red dots on their eyes, and if I could just take their glasses off for a few moments of conversation, those dots would be revealed.
It was how I felt when I talked to Chase in the hospital about that gun. His red dots appeared. I could see the murderer in his eyes. He’d taken a life, maybe more than one. He didn’t seem proud of it, but the motherfucker didn’t seem displeased either.
Maybe he’s the one killing them. How much do I really know about that cat?
My stomach rumbled with unease as I glanced out at the hallway that led to where Jazz now cuddled with him.
Chapter 9
JASMINE
I opened my eyes the next morning and noticed two things. One, we were no longer on the plane and definitely in a house.
How the hell does he not disturb my sleep when he’s transporting me around?
My body lay on top of a soft bed. Chase rested right next to me. He opened his eyes as I rose. Sunlight seeped in through parted turquoise curtains that lifted on the breeze. A salty scent mingled with the fragrance of flowers, as if the house were on a beach surrounded by a garden. I didn’t get a chance to peek a little more at the balcony or the view.
Something else distracted me.
The second thing I realized was that, waking up next to a naked Chase was like stumbling into a porno set. You tried not to look, but the moans tempted your eyes. The slapping sounds enticed the libido and sex permeated the air. Boom. Instant hormone overdrive.