Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 73846 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 369(@200wpm)___ 295(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73846 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 369(@200wpm)___ 295(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
Not that Elijah had officially hired me for his problem. Another issue that swirled around my head: I didn’t even have a way of contacting Elijah. I had managed to find his Instagram but wasn’t about to slide into his DMs unsolicited. He seemed like he wanted my help, but we didn’t have a chance to talk last night, not in any real depth. All I had of his was a nearly perfect face print on one of my favorite shirts that I wasn’t entirely sure how to clean now.
Well, besides him liking Doughy Dougy’s…
I glanced at my watch and decided it was time for me to head back anyway. I turned and ran down the trail, the mountain range behind me and Blue Creek opening up in front of me. A couple of other early morning joggers ran past, offering friendly hellos and waves. I recognized most of them, almost stopping for a chat with Shelly Ming, the owner of the pet store underneath Stonewall Investigations. She was clearly in the zone, though, sweat getting caught by a neon blue headband, rock music pumping through her wireless headphones.
I made it back home with my thoughts a little less chaotic. The run did end up helping, and after my shower, I felt like a brand-new man, ready to tackle the day.
After I picked up a mocha cappuccino from Doughy Dougy’s, of course.
I arrived at the bakery about ten minutes after the doors opened. There were already five other regulars inside, heading to their respective corners with their respective coffee and donut orders. I did a quick scan of the crowd, not spotting Elijah anywhere, before going up to the counter and making my order. A colorful donut display spun in a slow circle next to the register, showing off the expertly decorated and exotic flavors. I eyed the lavender pie donut before deciding to stick with coffee for breakfast.
“Thank you,” I said, grabbing my order and giving the bakery one last scan, still not spotting Elijah. It had been worth a shot, and at least I got some kick-ass coffee to start my day with.
I walked down the street toward the Stonewall offices. It was a beautiful spring morning, where the bitter cold of a dark winter had fully been replaced by a fresh breeze and bright skies. Flowers bloomed in huge clay pots placed along the street, the sweet scent of baked goods still following me as I stopped at Barks, Birds, and Booze. There were two new friendly faces restocking a shelf of cat toys as I walked past to the stairs that led up to the Stonewall offices. It wasn’t the only entrance we had, but I liked going through the pet store since they sometimes had adoption drives, and who didn’t like to pet a cuddly kitten or puppy on the way up to work?
Upstairs, I was greeted by Darien and Houston, the two of them looking intently at the computer screen. Houston’s crest bobbed up and down in bold flashes of yellow.
“You two planning a hostile takeover or something?”
Darien looked up, a little spooked. “Ah, sorry, sorry. I was just reading over the news from last night. The press got a hold of it.”
“There was no way of keeping a lid on it. Not with so many people at the bar.”
“I can’t believe it, man. A serial killer. Fuck.”
Houston seemed to feel the same way. He offered a loud and piercing caw before he got to preening his feathers.
“He stress preens,” Darien said, giving his buddy a head scratch.
“Same,” I teased, walking backward and pretending to nip at the hair on my arms. “It’s a great stress reliever. You should try it.”
“You’re so weird, Ryan,” Darien said, laughing as I dropped my arm and returned to walking normally. Houston mimicked the laugh, his head dipping in circles with every laugh. “Oh, Zane wants to have a big meeting tonight, so keep your evening open.”
“You got it.” I went into the sunshine-bathed hallway and to my office, marked with a heavy wooden door and a frosted glass window, my name printed on the front. It was a complete one-eighty from the cockroach-filled closet I had been working out of at my last detective agency. It was a super-small firm about two hours out of the town, focused primarily on uncovering cheating spouses with the occasional missing persons case thrown our way (usually ending up in uncovering a cheating spouse having run off with someone). I had taken the job because the owner of the agency was a friend of my dad’s and promised a generous pay structure.
Turns out, the guy was under various investigations himself for money laundering and tax evasion. Four months into my new job, the tiny shed we were working out of was surrounded by men with bulletproof vests and intimidatingly large guns. It was a blessing in disguise, since I moved back to Blue Creek and a week later had been notified about Stonewall Investigations opening up and looking for new hires. Now I got to work in a building with reliable air-conditioning while helping out a community I cared deeply about.