Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 93723 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 469(@200wpm)___ 375(@250wpm)___ 312(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93723 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 469(@200wpm)___ 375(@250wpm)___ 312(@300wpm)
He shrugs. “When you’re feeling better, check it out. See what you find. It might help put your mind at ease. Maybe something will trigger other memories and put everything into context.”
I nod slowly. “Maybe.”
“Don’t do anything extreme like dig up graves.”
With a tight grin, I roll my eyes. It’s a preposterous idea … if it were anyone else but me.
“Let me know what you find out. Now you’ve piqued my curiosity.”
I hum. “Mine too.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
“I think you should see someone,” Colten says, waltzing down the hallway Saturday morning in a pair of shorts, no shirt.
“Congratulations,” I say, pouring him a cup of coffee instead of entertaining his topic of conversation which has to do with my nightmares. “I heard you caught your killer. Did you find the saw? I have to know … was the cord six feet? When did you get home last night?”
“Slow down …” He chuckles. “After two in the morning. And we have our alleged killer. We don’t actually know yet. And if you must know, we have a saw and the cord is indeed six feet, but the handle is not red.”
I nod slowly. “Interesting. Tell me what you’ve got on him. I’ll tell you if you’re going to get a conviction.”
He takes the coffee and kisses me. “Good morning. Let’s not get off topic. About last night …”
“I’ll take the sleeping pills. Or you can sleep in the guest room. Or go home. You need your sleep.”
“Josie, it’s not about my sleep.” He sips his coffee before taking a seat at the counter and pulling a cinnamon raisin bagel from the bag. “It’s about your nightmares. Were you having them before the accident? You didn’t the night before the accident when you stayed at my place.”
“We were having sex all night. I’m not sure I had the chance to dream. But no. I wasn’t having these particular nightmares.”
He sighs, setting his mug on the counter with one hand while rubbing the back of his neck with his other hand. His palpable frustration makes the air between us thick with unspoken words. “Is this about the shooting or are you still thinking about the girls or hair or … whatever?”
I know he thinks my mental status is on shaky ground, and he doesn’t want to hear it. “It’s uh …” I stare into my coffee mug. “The girls.”
Colten sighs. “Tell me about the nightmares.”
I glance up, hesitating with my response until I know he’s really ready to listen. “It’s always a churchyard. Always long hair tied to the branches. Sometimes I see the girls with their shaved heads. They look terrified one minute and dead the next. But it’s so magnified in my mind’s eye that I can’t make out a location. I’d say their ages are anywhere from eight to eleven. All white. The bodies are always buried in cemeteries in recently excavated plots. It might have something to do with Winston Jeffries.”
“Who is Winston Jeffries?”
“An infamous serial killer who did this in the late 1800s.”
He nods slowly. “I’ll look into it. See if there’s been any recent copycats.”
I pause my coffee mug at my lips. “You will?”
Colten takes a bite of his bagel. “You’re a dog with a bone. You always have been. If looking into this helps you let it go, then I’ll do whatever it takes. I don’t want to spend our entire married life dealing with your dreams.”
I sip my coffee and mosey in his direction. “You won’t.”
Turning to the side, he widens his knees on the stool and pulls me into his body, hands resting on my ass as if it was made for that very reason.
“We’re not getting married, so there is a zero percent chance of you spending time dealing with my dreams because there is a zero percent chance of me marrying you.”
His lips twist as his mind searches for the perfect comeback. “Is it just me? Would you marry some other guy?”
“Tell me why you want to marry me.”
“To make it hard for you to get away,” he replies without a second’s hesitation.
I hug my belly with one hand as I chuckle. It’s a lot better, but laughter still gives me a little zing.
Colten takes my coffee from my other hand and sets it next to his before helping me (unnecessarily) onto the stool next to him so that our legs are scissored. I love that he likes to be close, always a part of his body touching mine. And now it makes more sense if he’s afraid I’m going to “get away.”
“Women have typically received the unfair label of ‘ball and chain.’ Colten Mosley … are you saying that you want to be my ball and chain?”
“You’ve always been a little slippery.” He takes another bite of bagel, but it doesn’t completely hide his smirk.