Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 96641 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 483(@200wpm)___ 387(@250wpm)___ 322(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96641 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 483(@200wpm)___ 387(@250wpm)___ 322(@300wpm)
Oliver Duck lay on the floor, his arms bound in front of him, a sock in his mouth, and a bruise on his temple. He wasn’t moving. Forgetting the Cupid, I rushed forward and dropped to my knees, reaching to find Oliver’s pulse—steady and strong.
So Nonna had seen him from the doorway.
I looked over my shoulder. “What did you do?”
“I knocked him out.” The Cupid shoved the stun gun into his pocket but kept the handgun pointed at us as he reached down and yanked Bud inside by his collar. Grabbing Bud’s handcuffs, he quickly cuffed the cop and then stunned him again.
Nonna cried out, and I stepped in front of her. “Don’t you think this has gone far enough?” I asked.
“Give me your phone,” he said, holding out a hand. I opened my purse and scrambled around. He grabbed my purse and threw it across the farmhouse to land on an old, quaint table in the kitchen. It skidded across and fell, dumping out all the contents. “The one in your back pocket.”
I wanted to charge him, so I set my stance.
He moved his aim to my nonna. “I’ll shoot her. I won’t think twice.”
He looked strong and ripped in the tight outfit, but it didn’t make sense. None of this made sense. I handed over my phone. He pressed a button and then looked closer. “Fuck.”
I winced and leaned over to see the picture I had brought up. Had I been able to forward it to Aiden? There was no way for me to know without the phone. Suddenly, all the pieces came together. It was about the DNA. “Hi, Wayne,” I drawled, sliding my body in front of Nonna again.
He looked at me for several moments, then tore off the mask and wig. In front of me stood who I had thought was Spencer Wilson, red hair and all. It all made sense now. He was actually Wayne, who his brother had pretended to be in order to take the DNA test. He glanced down at an unconscious Bud.
“Where’s McLerrison?” I asked.
“I knocked him out in the barn. He’ll probably freeze to death,” the real Wayne said carelessly. “Let’s go. I’m sure the cop called for backup.”
“We’re not going anywhere,” Nonna said.
He lifted the weapon and fired into the ceiling, causing plaster to rain down.
I jumped and instantly tried to cover Nonna.
“Last chance,” he hissed.
“Fine.” I looked at Oliver.
“I will kill him, but I don’t need to,” Wayne said carelessly. “He didn’t see my face when I grabbed him outside your office, so he has no idea who I am, and I didn’t leave prints on his phone when I texted you. But move now, or I’ll shoot him in the head.”
I gulped.
Wayne forced us outside and into Nonna’s older Cadillac, getting in the back with a gun pointed at me in the driver’s seat. Nonna’s purse rested on her lap, with both her wooden spoon and a nine-millimeter in it. In a swift motion, he reached over the seat and grabbed her bag. She tried to fight for it, but he put the gun to her head.
“Stop,” I yelled, panicking.
She released the purse.
He tossed it out the window. “Now, start driving. I only need one of you to make sure I get out of town.”
Great. We were hostages he’d shoot the second he was safe. We’d both seen his face and could identify him to the authorities. Trying to stay focused, I put the car into drive and headed back down to the main road. “Where to?”
“Lilac Lake Road. Our cabin is around Turney’s Corner. Drive on the periphery of town. Don’t make me shoot you.”
My hands trembled, but I did as he ordered, trying to keep from sliding in the snowy conditions.
When we reached the end of the country road, the ambulance roared past us.
“Damn it. Hurry up,” he said.
I pressed the gas, careful in the snow, trying to think of a way out of this. Aiden knew we were in trouble, and he would be coming. Unfortunately, my phone and any GPS were back at the farmhouse. But I had sent him the picture. I didn’t know if he’d put it together, though, because he didn’t have Nonna’s information about the Wilson brothers.
I shook my head. “So, your brother pretended to be you when he gave his DNA?”
“Yep,” Wayne said. “You thought I was Spencer. You thought he was Wayne. When his DNA cleared, you figured we were both clear.”
“His DNA cleared because you’re not genetically related,” I said. How had we not known that? How had anybody not known that? They shared a last name, and they’d grown up in Silverville. “How old were you when Jack Wilson adopted you?”
“I was just a baby. Very few people would even remember that we weren’t brothers,” he said, bragging now that he’d been revealed.