Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 74457 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 372(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74457 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 372(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
Robyn seemed more interested in Calvin Solar than anyone else, and when I teased her about it in the car ride back home after the boys won by a touchdown, she only blushed.
“He’s the nicest one, that’s all.”
“What do you mean, the nicest one? He barely speaks.”
“Addler and Des feed off Jarrod.” Robyn hesitated, picking her words carefully. “They’re nice when other people are around. But when it’s just them? I don’t know, it’s like they’re different people. But Calvin’s always the same.”
I looked at her carefully, trying to read her expression, but she’d gotten good at hiding things from me.
Not that I could blame her. I’d gotten good at doing the same thing.
“Don’t tell me you have a crush on him.”
“Now you’re just being gross.”
“You’re the one mooning over that weirdo.”
“I’m not mooning.” We pulled onto my street and Robyn slowed. “Do your parents have company over?”
I frowned at the nondescript black sedan parked in the driveway. “I don’t think so. It’s Sunday, they never do anything on Sunday.”
“Maybe Sam got a new car.” She pulled over by the curb. “Tell him I said hey, by the way.”
“Will do.” I opened the door and stepped out. “See you tomorrow?”
“Later, gator.” She blew me a kiss and drove off.
I approached the house. Sam definitely didn’t get a new car—he had no money and my parents sure weren’t paying for it. Besides, he’d pony up for something much cooler than a ten-year-old Toyota Corolla.
I tried not to worry about it as I went inside. I heard voices in the living room and approached, figuring I’d find Mom and Dad trying to extract themselves from a door-to-door knife salesman or something, and instead paused as I stared in at my worst nightmare.
The woman sitting with my parents was middle-aged with dark hair cut close, deep brown eyes, and dark skin. She wore a boring pant suit and sat with her back straight, her eyes roaming the room like a hawk. She noticed me right away, and her eyebrows quirked slightly, a smile slipping onto her lips. She was thin, in good shape, and wore comfortable running shoes.
She reeked of the police.
“Honey,” Mom said, standing up. She never called me that. “Detective Bates was just asking about you.”
I felt my blood run cold.
Detective.
This couldn’t be happening. We were so careful. Jarrod promised there were no cameras along our path, and we hadn’t left any evidence behind. No DNA, no scraps of paper or something stupid like that. We made sure to keep to ourselves—nobody else knew about our plan.
So why was a detective sitting in my dining room?
“Hello, Cora,” Detective Bates said. “It’s nice to meet you.”
That snapped me from my stupor. I put on my best fake smile. “It’s nice to meet you too, detective.” I glanced at my parents, not bothering to hide my discomfort. “Sorry if this is a dumb question, but why do you want to talk to me?”
Detective Bates laughed. She had a good laugh—disarming and kind. Her eyes crinkled up as she cleared her throat.
“You’re not in trouble. Everyone thinks they’re in trouble when I come around, but it’s not like that.” She glanced at my parents. “Would you two mind if we spoke in private?”
My heart did wild flips and leaps and I was pretty sure if I didn’t sit down right this second, I’d pass out and die.
My parents took their sweet time getting up. Mom collected the tea cups and took them into the kitchen while my dad glared death at me. I watched for them to give us some privacy before I joined Detective Bates at the table.
She studied me with that smile again.
“You don’t have to be nervous,” she said softly. “I’m just here to ask a couple questions.”
“Okay, sure, but I don’t know what I can help you with.”
She took out her phone and placed it down between us. “Do you mind if I record this? It’s for my notes. Makes it easier to go back and reference stuff.”
I wanted to say, absolutely no fucking way, but instead I only shrugged. “Whatever, that’s fine.”
“Great.” She hit the red record button then clasped her hands. “This is Detective Lynn Bates interviewing Cora Boyle. Would you mind stating your name?” She grinned and winked.
“Uh, Cora Boyle.”
“Great, thank you.” She adjusted herself and took a deep breath. “All right, Cora. I have a sort of delicate question to ask you, and I’m not sure how to do it the right way.”
I thought I might be sick. This woman knew. She knew I was a killer, that I helped murder Dr. Silver. She was drawing me out and soon she’d throw me in cuffs and my life would be over.
“Rip off the Band-Aid,” I said, doing my best to match her posture.
“All right then. How do you know Dannis Silver?”