Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 91847 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 459(@200wpm)___ 367(@250wpm)___ 306(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91847 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 459(@200wpm)___ 367(@250wpm)___ 306(@300wpm)
“Mitch?” I ask, extending my hand. “I’m Santos Augustine. Good to meet you.”
He looks at it, at my suit and dark glasses, then back at the SUVs before nodding and wiping his hand on his pants before shaking mine. He’s in his store uniform.
“I don’t think I know you.”
“I was a friend of Detective Hayes.”
He’s quick to recognize the name and his nervous gaze bounces back to the SUVs.
“How did you find me?”
“It wasn’t too hard.”
He swallows, and I’m pretty sure he can make out the outline of the men inside the second parked vehicle.
“Don’t worry about them. Can we go inside? I’d like to ask you a few questions.”
“You’re a detective?” he asks, but he doesn’t think so.
“No.” I consider my answer for a minute and decide to go with the truth. “Hayes was investigating the death of someone close to me when he had his accident.” I push my hands into my pockets. “It’s cold out here. Can we go in?”
“My mom’s inside.”
I put a hand on his shoulder. “I just have a couple of questions about what you told the police you saw. That’s all. Just a few minutes, Mitch. I came a long way to talk to you.”
He nods because I am pretty sure he knows I’m not going away. I follow him to the front door, which he opens. He calls out to his mom to tell her he’s home. I walk in after him and close the door, taking in the old house with its yellowed lace curtains covering the windows, the furniture looking like it’s been here for decades.
“Mitch,” an older woman says, coming out of the small kitchen. Her gaze is squarely on me. “Who’s this?”
“Santos Augustine, Ms. Forest,” I say, walking toward her and extending a hand.
She looks me over from head to toe and doesn’t shake my hand. Instead, she glances over her shoulder at her son.
“It’s okay, Mom. Mr. Augustine was friends with that man who died.”
“Was he?” she asks, gaze back on me. “He had a lot of well-dressed friends, that man.”
I’m about to ask what she means when she walks around me. “Five minutes,” she tells Mitch.
He nods and I can see he’s anxious. “It’s okay, Mom, promise.”
She gives me one more look before she disappears down a hallway.
I turn to Mitch. “What did she mean about friends?”
He shakes his head and points to the living room, and I follow him in. He sits on the edge of the couch, and I take the armchair. Mitch leans his elbows on his knees and puts his head in his hands. He tries not to look at me directly.
“After that man… Some guys dressed like you came by saying they wanted to make sure I was okay. The trauma and all. They came a couple of times.”
“Oh? Do you know who they were?”
Mitch shakes his head. “No, but they didn’t seem very nice.” I wait. “I’d told the police I saw the man before he went over.”
“You mean before he fell?”
He glances at the corridor where his mom disappeared. “He didn’t fall.”
“What happened?”
“I’m a hiker, and we used to live up there. Still would if it was up to me. I know the area really well. I was hiking along a lesser known path toward the cliff point where he’d been and when I heard them, something told me to stop. Being a hiker on your own, you listen to your instincts, you know?”
“Mhm, go on.”
“He wasn’t alone like they said in the news. There were two other men there. Came out of nowhere when that guy was looking out over the view. Just taking it in. He saw them and he was scared. He dropped his phone, he was so startled, and was looking around like he might bolt.”
“You saw this?”
“Yeah.” He bites on the edge of his thumbnail, looking off into the distance but I can see the fear in his eyes.
“What happened next?”
“It went really fast. One of them said something. The other one laughed, and I thought they knew each other but…” He shakes his head. “They grabbed him and the poor guy barely had a chance to scream before they threw him over.” He stands, pushes his hands into his hair, and paces the room before returning. He doesn’t sit down and is bouncing with anxiety.
“Go on, Mitch.”
“I waited. I was in a wooded area, so they didn’t see me and… They threw his phone over next after smashing it under their boots.” He draws a shaky breath in. “I didn’t know what to do. I was fifteen. And I was fucking scared. I walked to the edge to see if I could see him or hear him. It was full dark though, and I didn’t want to stick around. There was no sound anyway. There’s no way someone could have survived a fall there, I knew that much. I came back home later when I was sure no one would see me. Mom was beside herself. Cops were here. That’s when I told them what I’d seen. The next day some other men came back and told me they were friends of Mr. Hayes too and that I couldn’t talk to anyone. But I’m pretty sure they weren’t his friends. Then a few months after that, the same men came to make sure I hadn’t told anyone anything.” He looks me over. “They were dressed like you. That’s who Mom meant. They made some comments about fires in the area and houses going up in smoke, and they were just fucking thugs, you know?”