Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 73861 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 369(@200wpm)___ 295(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73861 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 369(@200wpm)___ 295(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
- If they're available, I need to look at them to see if there was anything the police possibly forgot. And it happens a lot more than it should these days. Especially in more rural areas where the cops never had to deal with a homicide before.
- - Wouldn't they pass the case on to a more highly-trained agency? Or the local FBI?
- You'd think. It's impressive the dick-swinging contest that is our justice system. Some detectives or sheriffs would rather never solve the case than hand it off to someone who could, thinking it would make them look bad.
That was unfortunately very true. Cases hinged on egos far more often than they should have.
- - What case is it?
- Nuh uh. If you want to know, you have to tune in to the next vlog or podcast. This isn't one of my pet projects. This is for work.
- - You do pet projects on top of your work research? Why?
- I think the goal is always to cover them in a vlog or podcast some day. But only after a shitton of research. There are some cases I really want to dive into, get a new perspective on. And then there are a few that, well, would make me seem crazy if I shared them with anyone else until I got some proof. I don't mind looking a little crazy, but I want to make sure I keep my credibility.
- - Are you working on any now?
Honestly, I didn't want to know because of Quin, because of Nia, because of all of our coworkers who could be impacted should she actually find out about us and what we did, then blew the whistle on it.
I just found myself curious about how her mind worked.
And, to be honest, I wanted a reason to keep talking to her.
- Yeah, actually.
- - I won't think you're crazy.
There was such a long pause that I thought she'd either fallen asleep, or she was just not going to tell me.
- Between the two of us only?
- - Of course.
- I think there is a serial killer in Navesink Bank.
- - Yeah? Why's that?
- This is really a 'I'll share my secrets with you over coffee' sort of conversation, don't you think?
- - We can do that.
- If I invite you over, it is with the understanding that should you so much as look at me the wrong way, I will murder you and dispose of your body, so that it will never be found.
- - Only seems fair.
Then she sent me her address.
And my ass got out of bed, dressed, and made my way over.
I cursed myself out the whole way, mind you. I reminded myself how pissed Quin would be, how you never knew if Nia was on to you or not, how important all my people from work were to me, and I didn't want to do anything that might put them in harm's way.
Then I went ahead and told myself that by getting closer to Poppy, I was actually going to be helping them. I convinced myself that I could go over her information about, well, me, and then I could feed her false information. I could get her off the scent of us. Then everyone would be that much safer.
Maybe it would actually work.
But even as I pulled up to her townhouse, I knew that at the end of the day, this had nothing to do with anyone else. My motives for choosing to keep in contact with Poppy were purely selfish.
I just wanted to see her.
Because, whether it made sense or not, I felt drawn to her.
And she made my mind quiet.
That silence was worth chasing.
Even if it might one day lead to my demise.
Poppy's townhouse was a corner unit which gave her a little more yard to the side. The small backyard had a six-foot board-on-board fence, obscuring whatever might be back there.
The buildings had red penny brick up to the porches then white vinyl siding and red shutters around the windows.
Poppy had a porch swing with thick red cushions, an indoor/outdoor rug with red and cream flowers, and one table beside the swing with an abandoned cup of coffee and a true crime paperback sitting on top.
She'd left the light on for me, and I made my way to the door. But before I could raise my hand to knock, the door opened. And there she was.
Her hair was wrapped up in some sort of plastic jaw clip, making it spout up out the top. Her eye makeup was smudged under oversize glasses. She had on a simple black tee that was a size or two too large, a pair of plaid shorts that showed off quite a bit of leg, and a pair of dinosaur foot slippers.