Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 78631 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 393(@200wpm)___ 315(@250wpm)___ 262(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78631 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 393(@200wpm)___ 315(@250wpm)___ 262(@300wpm)
“Yes.” Mack covers his ears. “He’s very good, but very loud. I swear, Dragon, one day I’m going to take my damned hatchet to that drum of yours.”
One day I’m going to take my damned hatchet to that drum of yours.
Malcolm Osborne. Ricky’s older brother. We called him Mack.
I’ll be fucking damned.
He always doted on Griffin. Brought her candy and gifts, loved hearing her laugh. Treated Ricky and me like we were a couple of street urchins, but oh. My. God.
Do I let on to him that I know who he is?
Why did he cut her the first time?
Was it an accident?
When I heard her scream, and I came running into the room, did he dart back out the window, leaving the knife?
He knew where all our kitchen utensils were. He and Ricky had been to our house a lot. He used to mow our lawn, for God’s sake. He picked up Cinnamon’s poop in the back yard. Did odd jobs when Dad’s plumbing work kept him too busy to fix things around the house. When Mack was done, Mom would invite him in, fix him a sandwich, and then leave him alone in the kitchen to eat it. And Dad showed him where we kept the sharp knives when they came over that Christmas morning.
Jesus fuck. All this time…
I have to get a hold of myself. Can’t let him know that I’m on to him.
I need to listen.
Listen on the other end of the line for anything that might give me a clue as to where he is.
Is he in Albuquerque? Where Alayna found the compound that belongs to the cult?
That would make sense.
In which case, he wouldn’t be too far from here.
He’s already given me some information, on purpose or not.
But I’m thinking he may have done it on purpose.
“How much money do you need?” I ask.
“Ten grand.”
“Not a problem. I can wire it to you. Just give me your number.”
“You have my number.”
“You can take money through an app at this number?”
“Yeah. And the sooner the better.”
“My girlfriend’s gone right now. I’ll get the money when she gets home, and I’ll take care of it right away.”
He grunts.
I draw a slow breath in. “But I need something more from you.”
“What’s that?”
“How did the cult get Griffin? If you didn’t sell her, what happened?”
He sighs. “They took her. They came to the house, and they took her. Said it was either her or the girl, so she went willingly.”
Damn.
Griffin was probably raped and impregnated against her will, but she was still a hell of a lot better mother than our own mother was.
“All right.” I pause, choosing my words extremely carefully. “If you really want my help, and you really want me to find her, I need to know where you live.”
The line goes dead.
“Fuck!” I yell, clenching my fists.
I quickly call Alayna.
“What’s up, Dragon?” she says.
“Hey, if I send some cash through a wire to the number that was left in the metal box, will you be able to trace where the number is calling from?”
“Why are you asking me this, Dragon?”
I quickly relay my phone call to her.
She doesn’t respond immediately. I hear her typing on the other end.
“Okay. I won’t be able to tell where the call is coming from, but what I can do is hack into the app. He probably had to give an address when he signed up for it. If not, I can see his other transactions. That may give us some leads.”
“Perfect. Let’s do it.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Diana
The EMTs arrive at the trailer park, where I’m still sitting on the ground, holding my injured hand. I haven’t tried to stand again. Not after my ankle nearly gave way from the pain.
Two paramedics approach me, a man and a woman.
“Ma’am,” the male says, “my name is Mark, and this is my partner, Sarah. Can you tell us what happened?”
I gesture toward the broken wood behind me. “I was stepping out of this trailer, and the wooden step just gave way. I fell through and cut my hand pretty badly. My ankle… I can’t put any weight on it without feeling excruciating pain.”
Sarah kneels beside me, gently taking my hand to examine the cut. “What’s your name?”
“Diana.”
“All right, Diana,” she says, “let’s take a look at that hand first. Mark, can you get a splint ready for her ankle?”
Mark nods.
“Can you move your fingers at all?” Sarah asks.
I nod. “Yeah. Moving them isn’t painful. Just where the cut is.”
Sarah begins to clean the wound. “This might sting a bit. Just hang in there. We’ll get you fixed up. How deep does it feel?”
“It feels pretty deep, but I can’t really tell,” I reply.
Mark finishes preparing the splint and moves to examine my ankle. “You’re doing great, Diana. We’re almost done with your hand. Let’s take a look at that ankle.”