Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 78142 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78142 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
Annalise? I don’t ask. She must be the cashier Antonio mentioned.
“I don’t think you’ll be sorry. He truly is gifted. My brother-in-law says he’s the best at drums he’s ever seen. I mean, if Emerald Phoenix was impressed, wouldn’t everyone else be?”
Antonio chuckles through the phone. “You got me there, Diana. Right. I’ll give him a call first thing tomorrow and tell him he’s got the job if he wants it.”
My heart leaps. Why I’m so excited for Dragon is beyond me, but I am. I want what’s best for him.
“And while you’re on the phone,” Antonio continues, “would you like to have dinner with me Friday night?”
And there it is. A lump in my throat. Because Antonio is a nice guy, and I like him. But damn… Dragon and I…
Except Dragon and I are absolutely nothing.
He made no promises. Made it clear he could make no promises.
Antonio is Teddy’s cousin, and he owns his own business. I didn’t think we had much chemistry at first, but maybe I’m wrong. “You know? I’d like that, Antonio.”
“Great. I can probably find your place again, but give me your address anyway. I’ll pick you up there around seven on Friday.”
“Perfect.” I rattle off my address. “See you then.”
“I look forward to it.”
I end the call.
Good. I have a date with a nice guy. A handsome guy. A guy who owns his own business, makes a decent living, doesn’t seem to have any baggage.
I should be thrilled.
So why am I longing for a drummer with baggage the size of Texas?
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Dragon
I sit for a few minutes at the table after Diana leaves.
I stare down at the smudges of spaghetti sauce on my plate, at my empty glass of water.
My phone sits next to me. I don’t labor under any delusion that I’ll get a drumming job from that music store I walked into.
Especially not tonight. Especially not from the guy who escorted Diana to bail me out of freaking jail.
No one else really calls me, other than Jesse, and he’s on his honeymoon.
So I’m surprised as hell when it rings.
I don’t recognize the number, but I pick it up anyway. “Yeah?” I say into the phone.
“I’m looking for Dragon Locke,” a low voice says.
“You found him. Who is this?”
“I know where your sister is.”
The call ends.
My heart nearly stops as it drops to my stomach.
The spaghetti I just ate threatens to erupt from my mouth.
What the fuck?
I quickly hit the number to call it back.
It rings, rings, rings…
But no one answers. Not that I expect anyone to.
How do you trace a call? How do you find where a number originated?
I don’t have a fucking clue, but Diana might.
Griffin is screaming.
I’m only nine years old, but I’m so close to my little sister, and our rooms are right next to each other. Mom and Dad’s room is on the other side of the small house.
So I get there first.
I get there first.
“It hurts, Dragon. It hurts!”
Blood.
Blood on her sheets, on her body, her pajamas—her pink flannel pajamas with blue hearts on them. Blood dripping from a cut on her round little cheek.
I can’t speak. I only look.
Something…
Someone hurt Griffin.
Her window is open. That’s how they must’ve gotten into her room.
There’s a cut on her face, right down her cheek.
Another one on her shoulder.
Another one on her belly.
I freeze for a moment. Unsure what to do.
Tears are streaming down my sweet baby sister’s face. “Help me, Dragon! Help me!”
On her nightstand, next to her bed, is a bloody knife.
I pick it up. Look at it.
That’s when my parents walk in.
Griffin went into shock after that. She wouldn’t talk. Couldn’t talk. Went numb, her eyes glazed over.
I screamed and cried and told my parents I hadn’t done it.
But you were holding the knife, they said.
A knife that came from our own kitchen, they said.
Did it? I didn’t know.
The beginning of the end.
Because whoever hurt Griffin that night came back several months later.
And this time they took her away.
I didn’t know that, of course. Not until years after the fact.
Did my parents truly think I had escaped the group home they had forced me into and come back and taken my little sister?
They must’ve thought so, because they didn’t come to get me.
They never reclaimed me.
Griffin disappeared.
This isn’t something I talk about. No one knows about Griffin except Jesse and Tim. So who could be calling? I trust both Jesse and Tim, so how would anyone else know? And why would he be messing with me?
But…
What if it’s true? If this person knows where Griffin is, does that mean they know where her body is? Her tiny five-year-old body, decomposed by now?
Or…
Is Griffin alive?
No.
She can’t be.
They wouldn’t come to me. They’d go to my parents.
But I have no idea if my parents are even alive. I gave up caring about them decades ago.