Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 98176 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 491(@200wpm)___ 393(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98176 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 491(@200wpm)___ 393(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
“Maybe that’s why he’s using it,” Kent says. “Because it’s so absurd and unbelievable.”
“Or maybe because he’s not the one who wrote the email.” Esguerra folds his arms across his chest. “I’m telling you, it could be from his wife.”
“Why would his wife contact Peter?” Anton asks, scratching at his beard. “We just killed nineteen of their friends and relatives and left the bodies for the cops to find. You think she has a death wish of some kind?”
“Maybe she does,” Yan says as I clap my hand over my mouth, suppressing a horrified gasp.
Nineteen people?
They killed nineteen innocent people in their quest to get Henderson?
“Think about it,” Yan continues, oblivious to the sick hammering of my heartbeat. “We’ve been after her husband for years. Think of the stress the whole family’s been under. Isn’t this what we thought might happen when we fucked with those people the first time? Weren’t we hoping that someone in Henderson’s family—the wife, the daughter, the son—might slip up under pressure and make this kind of mistake?”
“This is more than a mistake,” Kent says. “We didn’t find her because she contacted her friends out of worry. She reached out to us—to the email address that only Henderson and his CIA contact would have.”
“Unless she accessed her husband’s email and saw the forwarded message from the CIA,” Esguerra says. “Then she would have it too.”
Still holding my hand over my mouth, I back away, careful not to make a sound.
I understand now why Peter didn’t want to tell me any specifics about their plan.
It’s not because of my mental state—it’s because what they did amounts to mass murder.
79
Peter
We’re in the middle of strategizing how to best approach the situation when Sara walks into the living room.
“There you are,” I say, smiling. “How was your nap?”
Her eyes briefly meet mine, then dart away. “It was fine. Hello, everyone.” She waves at the men without a smile.
“Let’s reconvene tonight,” Esguerra says, getting up from the couch. “Eight o’clock, my office.”
I glance at Sara, who’s slipped past us to the kitchen and is pouring herself a glass of water. I don’t want to leave her alone—that’s why I called everyone over here.
Discerning my dilemma, Esguerra says, “Sara, Nora was wondering if you’d be able to help her out with Lizzie tonight. Rosa has the evening off.”
Sara looks over, her face expressionless. “Sure, I’d be happy to.”
Esguerra nods, satisfied, and everyone swiftly clears out, leaving us alone. I’m glad—because I don’t like this strange mood Sara’s in.
Did something happen while she was napping?
“Ptichka…” I enter the kitchen and stop in front of her. “Did you have another flashback this afternoon?”
She blinks up at me. “What? No, I didn’t.”
I give her a dubious look. “Are you sure?”
Her delicate jaw tightens. “Yes. I’m fine.” Setting her water glass on the counter, she turns away.
Only I’m not about to let her get away with such an obvious lie. Grabbing her arm, I turn her to face me. “Then what is it?” I demand. “What happened?”
She looks up at me, and I see a peculiar blankness in her soft hazel eyes. “Nothing. Nothing happened.”
“Sara… don’t shut me out.”
Something agonizing flickers in her gaze before she veils it with that blankness. “I told you, it’s nothing.”
“It’s not nothing if you’re refusing to talk to me. Ptichka…” I release her arm to tuck a wavy strand of hair behind her ear. “Please, my love, tell me what’s wrong.”
Her face tightens. “Nothing. Just leave it.”
Just leave me. I drop my hand, hearing the unspoken words as clearly as if she’d shouted them at me. The email had temporarily distracted me from my dark mood, but now it’s back, the knowledge that I’ve caused all this pressing down on me, suffocating me with its sickening weight.
I did this to Sara.
Her parents are dead because of me.
Her old life is lost because of me.
Because I didn’t leave her.
Because I can never leave her.
“Do you hate me?” I ask quietly. “I wouldn’t blame you if you did.”
She stares at me, her pupils darkening as her breathing speeds up. She doesn’t deny it, and why would she?
If not for my obsession with her, her parents would still be alive.
“I should.” Her voice is tight. “A normal person would.”
The pressure on my chest grows, the pain within becoming more acute. Of course she should. I’m to blame for all of this.
“I’m sorry.” The unfamiliar words force themselves through my throat, scraping it raw on the way. “I’m sorry about this, about everything. I failed to protect them… to protect you. I should’ve anticipated that he would do something like that, but…” I stop, knowing I have no real excuse.
With all the bodyguards and the security measures I’d had in place, I was prepared for my enemies to strike, but not that way.