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)
It killed me to leave her behind, but Jennifer was alive and this person who— Who what? Sent me the text? Helped Cavendish? Stumbled into an unlocked house and ran out when someone shouted at them? Whoever the hell they were, they were getting away.
I ran through the kitchen and into the living room, on the trail of those thundering footsteps. I hurried onto the porch and tripped.
“Ahh!” Pitching forward, I crashed on the steps, sliding off and collapsing on the gravel path.
Everything hurt. Dazed and pained, I lay there, listening to the footfalls fade, then disappear.
I don’t know how long it took me to push myself up and see the flowerpot rolling on the welcome mat where it was placed to trip me.
I don’t know how long it was till Jennifer’s voice grew louder, signaling her freedom from the basement.
Getting my knees under me, I pushed up onto my feet, spared one more glance at the lonely, forgotten house, and left.
Chapter Six
Cairo
“This is serious, Cairo! You’re going to tell me the truth, and you’re going to do it now!”
I puffed up my chest. “Tell me the truth and do it now!” I bellowed, then burst out laughing. “Very good, old man. You’ve been working on your bad cop routine.”
My father, Jack Sharpe, glared at me like he wished he could change that fact.
Get in line.
“Everything’s a joke, isn’t it?” He threw himself down in the chair, facing me across the interrogation table. “There’s a burned corpse in the morgue and a town full of witnesses that saw you set him on fire. You’re looking at kidnapping, negligent homicide— possibly second-degree murder.”
“Actually, I’m not.” Leaning back in the chair, I folded my arms behind my head. “I’m not sure if you heard, but my father’s the sheriff and he’s fucking the judge,” I said. “You’ll make the charges go away.”
“I can’t do that.”
“Course you can.”
“A dozen camera phones recorded the incident. It had two million views on YouTube before it was taken down,” he replied, jabbing his finger on the table. A folder lay closed on his side. “This is bigger than me now.”
“Nothing’s bigger than us in our town.”
Twelve hours since the abrupt end to Ruckus Royale. The guys and I weren’t in our house for ten minutes before Dad busted in, rounding us up and carting us to the station. There wasn’t time for a cover story.
I peered at the wall, where either Jacques, Roan, Legend, or Arsenio sat for their own interrogation. What were they saying happened?
“Cairo.”
I shifted back to the loose-jowled, flabby-bellied man that kicked in his DNA for my existence. And I checked, sending in our samples for a paternity test. The guy was my dad, though you couldn’t blame me for making sure. His eyes were dark where mine were light. His hair thin, mine thick. His chin weak, and mine defined. Plus, the little detail of my mother’s history of having babies during their marriage that weren’t his.
“I can’t protect you from everything.”
My jaw clenched. “I’d take one thing, Dad. One fucking time, and this is it. I didn’t turn that shit into a flaming skewer. I’m your son,” I hissed. “You shouldn’t have brought me here. You should know I wouldn’t do this.”
“You’re right,” he said, voice soft. “I do know my son... and he’s smart enough to not get caught.”
Slowly, I dropped the chair legs on the floor, locking on to those eyes so different from mine. Dad was first to look away. Everyone was.
I’ve been told there’s something about my eyes. Personally, I had no idea what they were talking about.
“Come now, Pops, let’s not dig all that up again.” My smile made him flinch. “I did not kill Cavendish. We tested it out before Ruckus. Dug the wells, bought the sand. Our setup was safe, and that’s obvious, seeing as none of the other sacrifices caught fire.” I shrugged. “If you saw the video, you know the vamp hunters blundered in, fucking with the sacrifices. One of them even stabbed Cavendish. Why aren’t you talking to him?”
“Because Scott Cavendish did not die from a stab wound,” Dad gritted. “You could try to look upset about this, Cairo. A man died a horrible death in front of you.”
“Testing me for normal human emotions again? Give it up, Dad. I passed all three psych evals. I’m not a sociopath.” I saluted him. “Just garden variety screwed up by my parents like the rest.”
“I did my best with you! I gave you everything!”
I heaved a sigh. “This is boring me now. I’ve only played along because you’ve got to make it look good for the town. Prove you investigated. We’ve put on a show for long enough.” I made for the door. “See you the next time I’m arrested.”
“He didn’t die from a stab wound.”