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)
The officer’s lashes flutter. It has nothing to do with haunted memories racing to the forefront of her mind and everything to do with Santiago’s lack of wrinkles, even with him having adult children. “Thank you, Priest Arkwright.”
He keeps her on his good side as he has over a dozen officers this morning. “Please, call me Santiago.”
She blushes before thanking him with an awkward handshake. It is less awkward than the maneuver my throat makes when Santiago locks his eyes with mine. He appears to be seeking guidance, but all he gets is the frightened stare of a boy trapped in a nightmare.
This is what always happened when my grandfather touched me. I knew I should have run, my head begged me to, but my legs refused to move.
I was frozen in fear.
As I am now.
“The car is this way,” Fitz advises, breaking Santiago’s secret-stealing stare mid-retraction. He was seconds from unearthing all my dirty secrets.
After waiting for Santiago to step around us, Fitz faintly taps me on the shoulder as if he is aware touching me would end badly for him before nudging his head to the door Jess’s dad just guided the girls through. “Come on. Morris will wait here for Jack.”
“I can’t. I… ah… I can’t…” I can’t get in a car with him is what I want to say, but the words won’t leave my mouth. They’re stuck, as entombed as my feet.
“It’s okay,” whispers a faint voice at our side.
Even with my limbs feeling the weight of concrete, my body has no issues adjusting my position so I can drink in Jess standing in the doorway, smiling softly. Her hair is unbrushed, her expression is exhausted, and her clothes are crumpled, but she is still the most beautiful woman in the world.
When she spots my prolonged gawk, her smile grows as if appreciative of it before she nudges her head to a fancy SUV parked one spot up from Jack’s town car. “If I don’t repent my sins, he may stop taking my calls at all hours of the day and night.” Her father’s nostrils flare as if he heard her lie as clearly as me before she continues, “I’ll check in?”
Since her high tone makes her statement sound more like a question, I jerk up my chin.
It relaxes the lines on her forehead immediately. “Okay. Bye.”
Her departure with her father should loosen the knots in my stomach, but all it does is increase them.
Octavia’s eyelids are on the verge of touching when my cell phone vibrates, instantly ungluing them. We’ve been waiting for an update from Jack’s team for over eight hours. Fitz was confident he’d be out within an hour of bringing us home, but no matter how many times I’ve reached out to see if that was the case, I’m left with more questions than answers.
No one is taking my calls, and it is frustrating me more than wondering if Jess would have still left with her father if I had asked her to stay.
Octavia holds her breath when I open my Messenger app. She’s hoping for good news but is left disappointed when I say, “It’s just Jess checking in.”
She said she’d check in, and she has almost every hour on the hour.
Like any concerned family member would, Santiago convinced Jess to go home with him after today’s sermon. It was meant to be an afternoon visit to assure her mother she was uninjured and safe, but it stretched to an overnight affair.
Well, so I thought.
Jess’s message exposes she has other plans.
Jess: Like a sixteen-year-old with a rebellious side, I snuck out before ‘borrowing’ my father’s car. If it gets me arrested, I’m gonna need you to bail me out.
While smiling for the first time in days, I reply.
Me: What’s your ETA?
Like larceny isn’t a big enough offense, Jess tacks on another charge by sending me a snap of her whizzing past a ‘twenty miles to West Seattle’ road sign.
I’ve only just replied for her to drive safely before Octavia returns the attention to the shitshow we’ve been wading through the past fifteen-plus hours. “He should have been out by now. Perhaps call Fitz again.”
“I’ve called Fitz. Numerous times. He’s not taking my calls.”
“Then try Morris.”
A pfft vibrates my lips as I collect our mugs from the coffee table and place them into the sink. “Can’t. I don’t have his number. That guy is a ghost. He only whizzes in when trouble is occurring.”
“That is exactly why you should call him,” Octavia barks out while following me into the kitchen. “Something isn’t right, Caleb. I can feel it in my bones.”
When she sways like a leaf on a hot summer’s day, I say, “Tiv—”
“I’m fine. I am just…” She scrubs at her black-ringed eyes while finalizing, “… tired. Lost. Certain he’s never going to speak to me again.” A lack of sleep the past thirty-plus hours has her muddled. “I asked to see him after I gave my testimony to the DA. She said she’d check. She never gave me an answer.”