Total pages in book: 49
Estimated words: 46512 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 233(@200wpm)___ 186(@250wpm)___ 155(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 46512 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 233(@200wpm)___ 186(@250wpm)___ 155(@300wpm)
I got the feeling she didn’t care to try, but I wasn’t going to push her on that anymore. I had gotten the feeling over dinner, that though Corrine was very easy to speak to, and it actually was a very pleasant night of casual conversation, the talk needed to remain light and only on the surface. She wasn’t comfortable talking about her mother, her past, or her current situation. She was highly educated, very well-traveled, and frankly, far more cultured than me. Because of her mother, Corrine had traveled to most of the world, and yet, she didn’t seem too excited to discuss her memories of those trips. She had also met some amazing people ranging from celebrities, chefs, artists, musicians, critically acclaimed authors, and political figures. Though she seemed to be a loner currently, the young woman had lived a lifetime already with her experiences and social interactions.
I truly found her fascinating and could have spoken with her all night had our meal not ended. When we reached her house, I was actually disappointed to have the evening end. It had been so easy, effortless, and genuine. As of late, all of my social engagements had been anything but.
“Thank you for the dinner,” she said as I entered the gate code. It was also obvious that this girl had been trained on proper etiquette, had impeccable manners, and had the grace of a queen.
“Thank you for joining me.”
“I’m sure it was the last thing you really wanted to do. Having dinner with a student was most likely not how you planned your night. But I appreciate it.”
“Don’t sell yourself short,” I said, driving a little slower than need be just to be able to give the compliment. “You have a lot to offer, Corrine. I’ve met very few people like you.”
“Like me?”
“True. Real. You aren’t pretentious even though you know about a lot and have lived more life than most your age. You aren’t immature, materialistic, or frankly… annoying. Listening to you this evening was actually a joy. I like you, Corrine Parker.” I smirked and gave a small chuckle. “And I don’t like most.”
The car came to a stop, and Corrine ran her hands on top of her pleated uniform skirt that she’d not changed out of before leaving for dinner. I wished we had thought of that when we first entered the restaurant—as did she—but we both soon forgot about her attire, and it ended up being a non-issue.
“Thank you, Mr. D. Not too many people make me feel comfortable. But you did. I needed that.”
I got out of the car and walked around to open the door for her. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to do one more walk through of your house before I leave.”
Shoulders that had tensed when we arrived at the house, visibly relaxed with my words. “I would like that. Thank you.”
I bit my tongue on lecturing her about the fact that no motion lights came on as we approached the door. I had to remind myself that while she might live in this house, it wasn’t her own. This responsibility fell directly on her mother. But considering Corrine was a young woman living alone, the very least she could have is proper lighting.
When she opened the door, I entered first and instantly noticed all the lights were out. I couldn’t remember if we had left them on or not since the sun hadn’t completely set yet when we left for dinner. But once Corrine flipped on the lights, I instantly saw something was wrong.
So wrong that the hairs on the back of my neck stood at attention.
The doors of the rooms were open.
Every. Single. Door.
“We closed every door,” Corrine breathed out, clearly seeing what I did. “I know for a fact we did.”
I looked up the stairs from the foyer and then into the hallway, and I saw doors open that I had personally closed.
“Go back to the car now,” I ordered as I reached for my cell phone. “I’m calling the police.”
She reached for my arm. “Please don’t call the police.”
“Corrine. Car. Now.”
She snatched the phone from my grip and took a few steps back. “Let’s leave, but don’t call the cops.”
“Someone’s been in your house, or could still be. Of course I’m calling the police.” I reached for the phone annoyed and also listening for the slightest movement in the eerie silence. “Give me my phone.”
She glanced around the house with wide eyes and trembling lips. Without warning—and not giving me my phone—she ran out the door toward my car. I knew I needed to get her out of the house, and there was no way I was letting her back in until we got to the bottom of what was going on. I reached for the stack of books on the table, grabbed her school bag and followed her to the car.