Total pages in book: 160
Estimated words: 155798 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 779(@200wpm)___ 623(@250wpm)___ 519(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 155798 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 779(@200wpm)___ 623(@250wpm)___ 519(@300wpm)
A sad laugh escaped me. “I thought I’d have to worry about someone starting with me first, and then branching off into his own thing.”
Travis leaned forward. “Say that again.”
I opened my mouth, but Brett squeezed my shoulder. “Don’t make her say it again. You heard her.”
Travis’ eyes flashed in anger. He shoved up from his seat. “Stop bringing personal shit into this, Broudou.”
“It’s all personal, and you know it. It’s going to be personal. And this ain’t about you, Detective Dickhead. You delivered the second-worst nightmare to her doorstep right on the heels of finding out his lawyers are going to try to say Fowler’s innocent. The timing’s suspect, or at the very least, it’s a karmic joke on Billie and this family. You know what’s going to happen. The press will eat this up. They will love saying the Midwest Butcher could still be at large and the man Billie put away as a twelve-year-old was innocent. Fuck. You know he’s not.” Brett’s voice was low, and rage simmered just under the surface. Some started to leak out. “They’re going to roast Billie alive.”
“What do you want me to do about it?” Travis stiffened.
“Oh, I don’t know.” Sarcasm. “Maybe put a gag order on his lawyers? Saying they can’t go to the press with their new idea because it could infringe on your investigation.”
“How the fuck do you know I haven’t already done that?”
“Have you?” Brett bit out.
Travis bit right back. “Yes. We delivered that order right before they were escorted off these premises. Any other bright fucking and unnecessary ideas, Mr. What The Fuck Do You Do Again? Right. You’re an athlete. You run after a ball for millions.”
“Wrong, asshole. I hit people for millions.”
Travis’ face twisted. He opened his mouth to speak, but Howard got in the middle.
“Okay, gentlemen…”
“Stuff it.” Vicky was more direct. “What more do you need from us, Travis? It’s already been a long day. I’ve no doubt that come morning, we’ll be in a nightmare of a storm. Can you get to what you need and leave?”
He sighed. “We need to search your premises.”
“No.” That came from Howard.
“If there’s someone—”
“I said no. Next?”
Travis paused before his next words. “I need to question you, Billie, about the last time you saw Ms. Walkins and Mr. Hibbley.”
I nodded. I wouldn’t have anything helpful to say, but… “There was a man,” I suddenly remembered.
“What?” Travis said.
“What man?” Brett asked.
“Maybe a month ago, on Sunday. After…” I was about to say the same weekend we had our group date, but instead I went with, “The day of Brett’s game against Minneapolis. It was thirty minutes to kickoff. Lo and I went on a walk down the driveway, and I saw a truck.”
“What kind of truck?” Travis asked.
I needed to remember. These details used to be easier to pull up because I catalogued them. I focused a minute, and then I saw it again, almost clear as day. “A blue Chevy truck. White on the sides. Blue top. Open back.”
“You didn’t get the license plate, did you?”
I shook my head. “First three letters were GWB. Maybe a four after? An eight? But I’m not sure. I’m sorry.”
“No. No.” He wrote that down. “This is great, actually. Anything on the man himself?”
“I thought he was a hunter. Sometimes they…” I tried to remember what the driver looked like.
Howard finished for me. “Sometimes they come around, checking out the land. Ask if they can use it.”
“Do you let them?”
“No. I’m saving it for myself and my son-in-law.”
Travis barely hid a smile. “Howard.” He inclined his head. “I know your son-in-law.”
Howard grinned before it faded.
“He had a ballcap on.” I could see him again. “Pulled low over his face. I was able to see his jawline, and it was clean. No beard. No mustache. White male. Trim body. Not skinny, just trim. Plaid shirt.” No. I remembered this too. “Blue and white plaid shirt. Grey also. He matched his truck. I thought that was funny, but I didn’t realize it until just now.”
Travis wrote everything down. “Anything else?”
“Yeah.” I squinted at the memory in my head. “He was holding the steering wheel. No! He was tapping the steering wheel. I stared at him.”
He stopped writing, his head rose.
“I stood on the hill and stared at him because I got a bad feeling. But I thought that was just because Brett had been concerned the night before, so that worry was in my head. Fresh. I shook it off, but yeah. I stared at him, and just before I turned around to go back to the house, he began to leave. I didn’t see him go, but I heard him.”
“You don’t know the direction he went, do you?”
I shook my head. “No, but the girls were riding bikes in the yard that day. Luna was riding up and down the driveway. She might’ve seen…” I trailed off, seeing the fury that lit his face.