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)
The thought kept coming unbidden over and over.
We were going to murder a human. We were going to take a life.
Dr. Silver was going to die.
Jarrod would do the actual killing, but I was a part of this. The plan didn’t work without my help.
It was hard to fully comprehend. Try as I might, killing Dr. Silver was still an abstraction, despite the reality of the woods, the cold sting of frosty air on my lips, and Jarrod’s looming, muscular form moving like a panther through the blackness. I knew it would happen, I understood on an intellectual level that I was about to see the man’s life leave his body, but I still couldn’t connect all the pieces together to make a whole.
We reached the edge of the woods and the back of the house’s fence line in silence.
The back lights were still on, despite the late hour, and the flicker and glow of a television made blue flashes across an upstairs window.
Jarrod let out a pleased grunt as he crouched down and leaned close. His hands touched my hips and his lips brushed my ear.
“He does this every night,” he whispered softly, breath warm and chilling. “Sometime in the next half hour, he’ll come down to let Hoagie out. When he does, we’ll draw him out.”
“What if he doesn’t?”
“Then we wait and go home and try again tomorrow.” He squeezed me gently. “Have faith. Now stay here and don’t move.”
“Wait. Are you sure the cameras won’t pick you up?”
“I’m sure.” He smirked at me, a flash in the night, then crept forward.
He skirted along the fence, staying as far from the house as he could manage, until he reached a side gate. It was double wide, meant for lawn mowers, but it unlatched and opened easily. Once that was done, he came back and hunkered down.
I sat next to him, drew my knees to my chest, and waited.
The night was colder than I expected. The heavy wool sweater beneath my black hoodie wasn’t doing much to keep the chill away, especially while we sat on the frozen ground motionless. I shifted closer to Jarrod and he wrapped one strong arm across my shoulders, tugging me closer.
I didn’t mean to display some affection and his reaction to my proximity was surprising, but he was like a furnace, his skin giving off so much heat that I began to warm up instantly. I should’ve been more careful—we were out to murder a man, after all—but I liked the feel of Jarrod’s hard, warm body against mine, and I figured it didn’t matter anyway.
After this, I’d do a lot more than just snuggle with him.
We waited as the clouds drifted past, covering stars then lazily moving on, their shadows casting long, strange black lines across the otherwise motionless yard. I saw a cat wander between the trees nearby, and heard other animals back in the woods moving through the underbrush.
If Jarrod noticed anything, he didn’t show it. The man was staring single-mindedly at the back of the house, his eyes narrowed, his face pulled down into a tight frown. It was like he was willing Dr. Silver to do what we wanted and he couldn’t do anything but sit in suspended animation until the man appeared.
More sounds back in the woods. Any other night and I would’ve been terrified. I wasn’t an outside girl, wasn’t into hiking or camping or whatever, didn’t care about plants and nature in general, and got freaked out in the dark. Sitting in the woods in the freezing cold in the blackest part of the night was exactly the sort of thing I would’ve done anything to avoid. I could imagine all sorts of beasts back there, lurking in the trees: fanged monsters, rabid beasts, starving creatures looking for an easy human to snack on.
And yet tonight, I was the predator.
Sudden motion. The back door slid open. The flood lights came out and I had to blink a few times.
The dog trotted out into the yard.
The back door slid closed. I never caught a glimpse of Dr. Silver, but I knew it was him.
Nobody else would be home to let the dog out this late.
Jarrod moved away and got into a crouch. He looked back at me and nodded.
I took a small metal whistle out from my pocket and stood. I stayed low, peering over the top of a bush, and pressed the whistle to my lips.
I blew hard.
Nothing happened.
No sound came out, but the dog’s ears perked up.
It trotted over to the fence and stared out at the woods.
“Again,” Jarrod whispered.
I blew again and this time held it longer.
The dog cocked its head, staring, but it only stood there. It didn’t head for the gate at all.
I blew again and again, and eventually the dog lost interest. It turned away and peed on the grass before moving back toward the door.