Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 68870 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 344(@200wpm)___ 275(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68870 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 344(@200wpm)___ 275(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
“Yes. But did he seem nervous or anxious? Distracted?” Ryan pushes, and for some reason I have this desire to answer him as honestly as possible. To give him anything he asks for.
“I don’t recall anything other than what appeared to be blind date jitters. He was maybe a little clumsy. The server brought him two new salad forks because Brad kept dropping his utensils. So yeah, maybe that was a nervous thing.” For all I know he might have been clumsy all the time. I try to think about any other details that stuck out, but I’m drawing a blank.
“How was he behaving otherwise?”
“He was funny, charming, polite. And chivalrous. He took off the second he realized that girl had taken my bag. But I don’t know what his date behavior has to do with him getting shot by a random criminal. Can you tell me what’s going on?”
“I understand your confusion. But I’m led to believe there was more to it, which is why I’m digging.”
I can hear papers shuffle on the other end of the line, and for some reason I’m imagining an adorable crease between his eyebrows as he concentrates. In my mind he’s got dark wavy hair and blue eyes. God, what is wrong with me? I blink away the fantasy and try to focus.
“You don’t think it was random? Gosh, what if he really just wanted to end the date with me?” Maybe he wanted to be there as much as I did. “That’s a depressing thought.”
Ryan laughs. “I’m sure you’re not that terrible.”
“This is funny to you?” I tease as I fight a smile. I shouldn't be smiling at all, but here I am, finding humor in all of this.
“No, I’m sorry. That was unprofessional. Your comment just caught me off guard.” Now it’s his turn to clear his throat. “And no, I don’t believe his death was random, but it didn’t have anything to do with you. It just seems unlike Brad Chalmers.”
Why would a reporter from a state-run outfit look into a death that the Regime’s coroner had declared murder? That is stepping into very hot water. Boiling, in fact.
“How would you know it’s unlike him?”
“I’m the one asking the questions,” Ryan says, but there’s teasing still in his voice and I can hear his smile. I could be wrong, but I think he’s flirting with me.
I should not be getting gooey eyed over a reporter, so I try to make my voice stern and act like I know what I’m doing. I hear my phone beep and I see that someone else is on the other line.
“Mr. Sharp, that was a very traumatic day for me. And it was just yesterday. I’m still raw and I’m trying to keep it together. You can put that in your article. I have another call, if you’ll excuse me.”
“Of course,” he says, and for a second I hear disappointment in his voice. Is that because I want to go or that I’m not giving him what he wants? “Good day to you, Ms. Parsons.”
I’m crestfallen that he doesn't try and keep me on the line, but I try to push it away and hang up so I don’t say anything else. When I click over to the other line it’s the detective investigating Brad’s murder. He’s calling to let me know that the investigation is closed and they’re returning my bag if I want it back.
“Don’t you need it for evidence?” I ask. That seems a little too fast for protocol. I didn't know Brad well, but what happened to him should be taken seriously.
“We’re closing the investigation. The perpetrator has been found and dealt with.”
“She has? Already?” I’m surprised it happened so fast, and I’m a little taken aback by how quickly this is all moving.
“The Regime works swiftly, ma’am,” the detective says with confidence.
“Wait, you found her, or your higher-ups told you they found her?” I push, wanting to know more. Ryan’s call has gotten my mind wandering and now I’m becoming suspicious.
“And what exactly are you insinuating? The Leader doesn’t lie. Would you like your bag or not?” he clips out, clearly tired of my questions.
I think it over for a moment. It’s a very expensive, much-loved bag. I had been on a waiting list for a whole year, and then I was finally able to place my order. Handmade leather bags simply are not made in this region, and the Regime imposes heavy restrictions on such goods. I’d been through a lot for that bag.
Is it shallow of me to want it back? Does it mean I’m careless of Brad’s death? No, I tell myself. It doesn’t mean that to me. And besides, what will happen to it if I don’t get it back? It will likely be destroyed, like so many other works of art. And it is, in my mind, a work of fine art.