Total pages in book: 51
Estimated words: 47537 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 238(@200wpm)___ 190(@250wpm)___ 158(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 47537 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 238(@200wpm)___ 190(@250wpm)___ 158(@300wpm)
My message to my sister goes unanswered even though I’m aware she’s read it and so I start to doubt myself. Without waiting any longer for her to reply, I promise her I’ll be home this weekend and we can have a girls’ night. Just the three of us.
Her joke about me having time off over a reporter and bad press makes me roll my eyes, but more than that, I’m grateful for the distraction. I shake my head at the thought that all that’s wrong right now in my life is just bad press. What a pretty little lie.
The truth will come out and you’ll be back to your workaholic self. It’s the last text she sends before I plug in my cell and decide I really need to sleep. I’ve barely slept to the point where now my eyes are raw and dry. I got in a half hour catnap earlier but woke up with my heart beating out of my chest. If I can sleep tonight without waking up in a panic, I’ll count it as a win.
No sleeping pills, though; I want to stay alert. No, I think as I sigh heavily, I need to stay alert.
The moment I lay down, a satin wrap around my hair and the blanket tucked all the way up to my chin, my phone pings but it’s not my sister like I expect.
I’m only a phone call away. Cody’s message elicits a guilt that barricades my throat. I have to swallow it down before telling him I know and I’m here if he needs anything.
I add in a thank you, although it doesn’t offer me any peace. I shouldn’t be thanking him for my independence.
It’s not like we’re more than fuck buddies and I almost tell him that, but my wretched heart hurts daring to think the words, let alone say them. I don’t want anything more, and neither does he that I’m aware of. So all of this … the protection he’s given me … it’s just him being kind and doing what he knows how to do. I appreciate that.
I appreciate you, I write to him because that’s all I know how to say right now. It doesn’t explain why the back of my eyes prick with unshed tears and I suddenly feel so alone.
Lying on my back and staring at the spinning ceiling fan, I come to the only conclusion my exhausted mind has to offer: I think I’m falling for him and that’s terrifying. In all of this mess and turmoil, my heart is apparently in chaos too. Last night, I slipped deeper into his arms than I ever have before.
He’s only a phone call away and he’s texted me that twice already tonight. That’s good enough for now.
I swear I try to sleep. I forced my eyes closed, my bed is warm and cozy … I even got up around 2:00 a.m. for a drink of chamomile tea that I sucked down as quickly as I could so I didn’t have to have my eyes open for too long. All the effort to sleep doesn’t work; sleep evades me.
The alarm clock reads nearly 4:00 a.m. as I sit in my bed, reading through a folder of evidence. If I can’t sleep, I can at least work.
Ross Brass is the one case I chose. Even if his charges were dropped, he’s a suspect in another case. There are more murders with his signature and now an APB is out. But he’s in the wind.
It’s the case that makes the most sense for me to look into. With nothing but time on my hands and a stain on my reputation, both because of him, I want this bastard behind bars for more than one reason. It’s not a vendetta, though, it’s simply my fucking job.
It’s not the case that’s opened on my laptop laying only a foot from me on the bed. The dim light of it calls to me to come back to it even though I’ve read through it a dozen times already. There’s not much there, to be honest. Twenty years ago, detective work wasn’t what it is now. The lack of forensics and technology and protocols … it all adds up to incomplete files, scanned papers that are more incoherent thoughts and assumptions that aren’t backed up than anything else.
What is known is that there were three men, at least, who kidnapped, assaulted and sexually abused a number of boys ranging from six years to ten years old. Two men were found dead at the scene, where the remains of the missing boys were found buried along with evidence that they were fed to the dogs roaming around the property. The third man was badly injured by the dogs; with his throat ripped out, he died in the hospital hours after discovery. One boy was alive when police arrived, only to die shortly after in the care of medical professionals who simply couldn’t treat all his injuries.