Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 91212 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91212 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
Her death made that impossible, or at least that's how my father made it look. In his grief, he asked me to stay with Chapter One. It was my mother's pride and joy and, for that reason alone, I needed to take over and see that it remains a success.
I've done exactly what he has asked of me for the last twelve years, but I can't help but wonder how much of a difference I could've made in that timeframe by helping to cultivate teachers who care.
"Hi, can you tell me where the related arts building is?"
I look up at the young woman standing in front of me.
"Just down the sidewalk there. It's the big building on the right. You can't miss it."
"Thank you so much, professor," she says before walking away, and it makes my heart clench with a loss I know I'll never be able to fulfill.
Chapter 19
Ace
I have no idea why I stare down at my phone as if I'm willing it to send me a message.
I have even less explanation for why I have her contact information pulled up.
I press my thumb to the screen, holding it up to my face when it goes dark, just so I can continue to stare at her name—CORA.
She didn't even put her last name in there, as if she just assumed she'd be the only Cora in my contacts.
She is, of course, because this phone isn't the one I use in my day-to-day life. It's one I've been given for this particular case. It's a phone provided by Cerberus, which makes me even more resistant to sending her a message. Everything I do with it is monitored, not only with activity but also with geographical location. It's how I know without asking that Kincaid knew exactly where I was last night and how long I was there.
Having my activities tracked normally doesn't bother me. It's what keeps me safe in case shit goes south, but, for some reason, it irritates me a little this time.
I drop my phone on the coffee table and keep my eyes locked on the television screen. I'm running through video from last night, logging the comings and goings of the spa's clients. Although it's faster to do it this way rather than watching it live, it's also a risk that we might find something in real time that we could use at that moment. Something popping up now would only lead us to a dead-end road.
I shoot off some information to Max on a new license plate, and although I know better, while my phone is in my hand, I stupidly send off the address to this little studio apartment to Cora.
I could be grilled for hours about my reasoning, and I still don't think I'd be able to explain why I did it.
There's no response. She doesn't ask me why I sent it or question my motives. The phone goes dark and stays that way until Max sends me info back on the car.
Of course, it comes back to the spa and not a rental to another person. Face recognition is slow because the camera I placed is so far away. It's nearly impossible to identify anyone unless I know them from sight, but I still flip through the binder provided of people known to frequent DC and look to see if I can't identify the guy.
I get busy as I dive deeper into the visitation to the spa from the night before, and almost manage to lose track of time, but thoughts of Cora keep infiltrating my mind. At first, I reason that it's because she was the client paying Cerberus to find her sister, but I've never been a fan of lying to myself.
The woman intrigues the shit out of me which is more a surprise than anything, because she isn't the first pretty woman I've been around. I've had my fair share of hookups in my lifetime, so many that she shouldn't even be on my radar past our connection through the case.
But she isn't even a hookup, is she?
Before I can delve deeper into my psyche, my eyes lift to movement on the small screen in the corner of the television.
The smile that spreads across my face is slow, but my body's reaction to what I'm seeing is much faster.
I stand, making my way to the door and pulling it open before she can lift her hand to ring the doorbell.
She gives me one of her fake smiles. I fight the urge to challenge it and tell her not to smile at me unless it's one of her real ones, but I have no right to demand anything of this woman other than to stay out of my way during this case.
"Hi," she says when I simply stand wordlessly in the doorway. She lifts a bag in her hand before speaking again. "I was hungry and figured you might be too."