Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 105921 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 530(@200wpm)___ 424(@250wpm)___ 353(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105921 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 530(@200wpm)___ 424(@250wpm)___ 353(@300wpm)
For a second, I'd warmed to the idea of buying her breakfast, thinking maybe it was time to break my rule about hooking up with guests. Then, she'd lied about reserving a cottage and my interest morphed into irritation. Since I had to call West anyway, might as well turn in two trespassers for the price of one.
Scarlett—if that really was her name—heaved again. I stepped back to get out of the way, my irritation sidelined by worry. She was a trespasser and a disappointment, but something was wrong with her. She needed help.
Crouching down to her level, avoiding the waft of puke-scented air, I rubbed her back. "Hey, you okay? Do you need a doctor?"
"Body," she moaned. "Body in the bushes. Dead. She's dead." Her voice ended in a wail, her body dry heaving again.
Had she said body? There was a dead body in the bushes? What the fuck?
Hardly believing her words, I crouched further, looking past Scarlett's hunched form into the dense bushes beside the path where she'd fallen. A familiar pair of red leather sandals caught my eyes.
No. Fuck, no. How?
Pushing the bushes apart, I looked down into Vanessa's sightless eyes. The red circle in the center of her forehead stared back. Vanessa was dead. Shot, just like my father.
I would have heard the gunshot, wouldn't I? I knew guns, was a decent shot myself. There was no way I would have missed the sound of a gunshot. Unless… I thought back. While I'd been arguing with Scarlett, I'd heard something. A hiss-thump I'd taken for a car backfiring in the nearby employee parking lot. I'd looked down the path after Vanessa and hadn't seen anything, but taking in the neat red circle in her forehead, the sound fit into place. A silencer. What I'd heard could have been a silenced gunshot.
I straightened, mind racing. Vanessa and I had fought. I was one of the last people to see her alive. But no one knew that. No one knew… Before relief could set in, I straightened and looked up at the Inn, took in all those floors of windows, all the guests who could have been staring outside just in time to see me get into a fight with Vanessa.
West's deputies would canvass the Inn. It wasn't that no one knew we'd fought, it was more how many witnesses were there? Odds were at least one. How many times had I stood at the windows in my office, taking in the view of the gardens? Too many. Looking away from the windows, I stared at Scarlett.
She'd started as an opportunity, then she'd been an annoyance. Now, she was my lifeline. I'd run into her less than a minute after Vanessa had stormed off. Scarlett was the only person on the planet who knew that Vanessa had been alive when we'd parted ways. The only person who knew exactly where I'd been every second between Vanessa's departure and her death.
She was a trespasser, and she was definitely up to something, but it didn't matter. I wasn't letting her out of my sight.
I pulled out my phone and dialed West. I'd been friends with our police chief for most of my life. Between my father's murder, the attempts on Griffen and Royal, and J.T.'s stabbing, we'd seen more of him than usual lately. He wasn't going to be happy about this latest development. None of us liked Vanessa, but no one wanted her dead.
Mentally, I corrected myself as I listened to the phone ring. One person had wanted her dead. And that person had gotten what he wanted.
"I take it this isn't a social call. What's up?" West answered.
"Vanessa's dead. In the gardens at the Inn."
West was all business. "Are you with the body now? Did you find her?"
"Yes and no. A guest found her."
"Stay with the body. Don't let anyone close enough to disturb the scene. I'll be there in ten."
West hung up before I could tell him Scarlett had literally fallen on top of his scene, then I'd made it worse by hauling her out of the bush. Remorse hit me as I took her in, arms scratched from the bush, t-shirt ripped, her hair tangled. She wiped her mouth on the back of her hand and straightened, her breath ragged.
"What happened?" she breathed, her voice shaky and thin. "She's dead. How?"
"I'm assuming someone shot her," I said dryly, instantly regretting it as Scarlett's face paled. She swallowed hard. I took her arm, gently this time, and pulled her a few feet away from the bushes.
"The police chief is on his way. After we talk to him, I'll take you somewhere you can get cleaned up. Just hang on a few minutes."
She tugged on her arm. "I don't need to be here for that. Just let me go and—"