Total pages in book: 138
Estimated words: 129460 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 647(@200wpm)___ 518(@250wpm)___ 432(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 129460 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 647(@200wpm)___ 518(@250wpm)___ 432(@300wpm)
They only just enter my apartment when an officer darts across the landing so fast, I begin to wonder how badly Jack’s blackouts are.
Are they Caleb’s level of violence or worse?
“Here.” The unknown man’s eyes bounce between Caleb and me when I shove a pair of Caleb’s sweatpants and a shirt in his hand. They’re from years ago, but you wouldn’t know that with how tightly Caleb’s brows pinch together when he recognizes them.
I guess it is a little weird that I kept his clothes for over three years, but now is not the time to discuss my weirdness. We need to move fast if we want to help Jack.
“Bring Jack’s car around to the back entrance. There are no cameras on that side of the building.”
The still-unnamed man shifts his eyes to Caleb to gauge his response to my suggestion. When Caleb jerks up his chin, he says, “I’ll buzz when I’m ready for you to bring him down.”
While Caleb dresses a mute Jack, I fetch my cell phone out of my room and dial a frequently called number. My father answers two seconds later. “Daddy, I need your help.” Caleb peers at me beneath lowered lashes when I add, “No, it isn’t Caleb. He’s okay.”
Before I can assure him I am safe, a far more dangerous situation occurs.
Jack notices the blood on his hands, and he rockets to his feet. “What happened…” He stops, swallows, then stumbles back when reality crashes into him hard. “Oh, God.” Caleb balks at his mention of God, but Jack doesn’t notice since his focus is on the flashing lights beaming through the patio door of my living room. “I need to turn myself in. I need to—”
His reply is cut off when Caleb stills his swaying movements by grabbing the top of his arms.
Just like Caleb, Jack can’t conceal his issues with touch when he’s snowed under. “Don’t touch me.”
Oh, God. Now his response when I took him the story Silas was attempting to sell makes sense. He looked ill, like his worst nightmare was about to come true. I thought he was sympathizing about what Octavia would go through when confronted with her grandfather’s horrendous crimes again. I never pieced together Silas’s desperation to sell the story to Seattle Socialites until now.
He wanted Jack’s company to run the story, and he wanted me to take the fall for it.
“Let him go,” I instruct when Jack and Caleb almost get into a tussle.
“You want him to confess?” Caleb asks, staring at me with bewilderment all over his face.
I shake my head. “No. But his defense will be more legitimate if he turns himself in.” My father and I faced a ton of issues with Caleb’s defense because I begged him to leave, then made out I didn’t know who defended me.
Regretfully, another witness came forward.
“Listen to her, son. She is trying to help your friend,” my father says through the phone, reminding me I have him on speaker.
When his stern voice freezes Caleb, Jack makes his escape. He exits my apartment at the speed of a bullet, and I punch out a text message to Octavia even faster than that.
Me: Jack is gone.
As ellipses trickle across the screen, I say, “Dad, I have to go.”
“Okay. Let me know the precinct and the charges, and I will do everything I can to help.”
His reply pricks my eyes with wetness. “Thank you, Daddy.”
Just as I disconnect our call, Octavia’s reply pops up on my phone’s screen.
Octavia: Where? And why did Caleb let him leave?
I instantly reply.
Jess: Jack didn’t give him much choice. He wants to turn himself in.
After changing out of my nightwear, I snatch up my purse, tug on some running shoes, then head for the door.
I almost make it out, my steps only slowing when Caleb grabs my arm. “I…”
When his words clog in his throat, but no amount of stuttering can lessen the apologies in his eyes, I mutter, “You don’t have to say anything, Caleb, but you do need to help Tivy. We need to help her. This isn’t about us. It isn’t about you. It is about Octavia.”
Reminding him of his protectiveness of Octavia slackens the grooves scoured across his forehead.
When he bobs his chin, agreeing with me, I press my lips to the edge of his mouth before helming our return to an apartment that appears more like a crime scene. Blood is soaked into the floorboards, an unconscious Silas is being attended to by paramedics, and Jack is being read his rights by one of the officers who arrested me years ago. He isn’t a rookie anymore.
“Retain your right of silence,” Octavia says to Jack a second before Caleb curls his arm around her shoulder to make sure she remains upright. She is shaking as much as him.