Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 112449 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 562(@200wpm)___ 450(@250wpm)___ 375(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 112449 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 562(@200wpm)___ 450(@250wpm)___ 375(@300wpm)
I opened them as I did every morning and night, then I sat down to study them as I always did.
A flurry of names, faces, phrases, and articles connected by blue string, making the connections I saw constantly in my mind.
Sliding my backpack across the floor, I unzipped the side pocket and drew out the letter.
A plain black envelope with a single white card inside. Who knew the day I plucked it off the welcome mat would change my life forever?
I slid out the note, repeated the words now seared on my soul.
“Does the kookaburra laugh or does it scream? Does the mighty kingfisher cry or does it dream? Where are you, kookaburra? Tell me, oh, tell me, why is nothing as it seems?”
I flipped it over, reading the message on the back.
Ruckus will have its sacrifice. The question is, darling Rainey, will it be her or me?
You decide.
There had been more letters since. Placed on my welcome mat every week on different days, outside of the week I stayed up seven nights in a row trying to catch him.
More letters to taunt me. Urging me to be the one to catch him where all the others failed.
I assumed it was a him, based solely on the stats saying one in six serial killers was a woman. That left the five in six for the ones with the extra appendage.
But assumptions were all I had. None of the following letters said more about him. None of them gave a clue to who he’d kill during Ruckus Royale other than her.
This envelope that I carried with me always was the single hint to his identity. The only information I’d been given to find him. It was less than nothing to go on, but lucky for me, he was perfectly clear in the following letters on what I was to do if I solved his riddle.
Kill him.
He promised—he threatened—that it was the only way to save the unknown innocent woman he chose for death on Ruckus night.
Turning him into the police wouldn’t save her. Appealing to his better nature was laughable.
It was him or her, and finally, thanks to Cairo Sharpe, I made up my mind.
I knew what I had to do, and who had to die.
Chapter Two
Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.
I peeled my eyes open, squinting in disbelief at my phone. What the hell? Was someone... calling me?
Picking it up, Paris flashed on my screen.
“Hello?”
“Hey, Rainey. Hope you don’t mind I put my number in your phone.”
“When?” I cried. “It was in my purse all night.”
“Not all night.” She laughed. “Sorry, I’m a pretty handy pickpocket. I don’t spread it around for obvious reasons.”
“Who are you?”
“The girl who’ll pick you up and drive you to school as soon as she gets your address. There weren’t any car keys in your purse, and busing it from your farm to school must be killer.”
Busing it to and from the farm would be killer, if I still lived there.
The thought panged my heart.
“You’re sweet,” I said, pushing myself up. “I actually booked in a motel while I’m getting a handle on things. It’s a ten-minute walk, so I’m good.”
“Then let’s meet in the student union. They’ve got this yummy bagel place. My treat.”
I hummed. “Why are you being so nice to me? Do you feel bad for taking off last night?”
Silence descended on the other end. “Yes, I do. I know Cairo didn’t let you leave. I tried to get back in and help you, I swear. The guys blocked the door and wouldn’t let me in. He didn’t... do anything to you, did he?”
I knew that tone in her voice. Hesitation. Shame. Paris loved him. Wanted to see the best in him, even when the truth stared her in the face.
“If he did, I’ll kill—”
“He didn’t,” I cut in. “Cairo was a perfect gentleman. Honestly, we talked and he helped me come to a decision over something I was struggling with.”
“Really? That’s great.” A gush of breath crackled over the line. “I feel fractionally less of an asshole now, though I’m still a jerk for taking off. Bagels?”
“Had me at your treat.”
I hung up and got dressed, lingering in front of the closet while I tugged up my jeans.
Day and night, I’ve worked to solve the riddle. At the start, once I realized this wasn’t a horrible joke, I hoped I could solve it quickly, find the bastard, and follow him till I had proof he was a crazed maniac. Proof that no one, not even Sheriff Sharpe, could deny.
Weeks passed with me stuck on where to find kookaburras. They weren’t native to our area. Bedlam had a private wildlife sanctuary, but they didn’t house any kookaburras, and I called three times and visited to check.
The nearest pair was fifty miles away in Hunter’s Crest—a town three times the size of ours and boasting a zoo. I took the bus out there and grilled one of the keepers. He backed up everything I read online. Kookaburras are known for laughing, and they do not cry or dream. What this was supposed to tell me about the man, or woman, who ordered their execution, I had no idea. For a long time, I was stuck. Then I received the orientation packet for Bedlam University.