Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 138169 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 691(@200wpm)___ 553(@250wpm)___ 461(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 138169 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 691(@200wpm)___ 553(@250wpm)___ 461(@300wpm)
But that’s not what I’m apologizing for.
I’m apologizing for having to hurt her, for having to shatter her life this way.
That’s fucking genuine, and the one thing I can give her right now is real honesty.
“I wish I could tell you it would be all right, Miss Lewis. I’m afraid I can’t. Do you want me to tell you what we found?”
She opens her eyes, staring into the sink.
I catch a tear sliding down her cheek, visible from my angle.
“Y-yes! Tell me,” she whispers.
“He fell. From a rather steep cliff,” I say. “The drop was massive. His skull struck the rocks at the base of the cliff. It’s very likely he felt nothing; it would have been quick.”
“Quick doesn’t make him less… less dead,” she stammers, sobbing.
That sob turns heavy fast—and I move quickly to rest my hands on her shoulders, giving her a gentle push toward the table.
“Sit,” I urge. “I’ll make your tea.”
Crying herself hoarse, she staggers over to the chair I just left abandoned, drops down, and buries her face in her hands.
Fuck, I hate this.
I give her a moment to cry it out, without forcing her to think about me at all, and retrieve her kettle from the sink to finish what she started.
While the water heats, I fish out a mug and a teabag, grab the kettle just before it screams, and fill the mug.
By the time I slide the tea in front of her, she’s starting to calm down, violent heartbreak dying into sniffles.
I settle in the chair across from her, trying not to be obvious about watching her.
She’s small enough that the footprints in the grass could have belonged to her, but I don’t think she’s faking this reaction.
Some people can cry on demand, but not like this.
This is real.
Full-body, racking grief that speaks of true pain.
The kind of howl from the heart I knew when I stepped into the morgue to identify my brother’s body.
Miss Lewis takes a shaking breath and wipes at her eyes. “I’m… I’m sorry…”
“Don’t be.” I shake my head. “You’re allowed to be upset. Take all the time you need.”
She curls her hands around the steaming mug, staring into it.
“I just can’t believe it,” she whispers. “He’s been hiking his whole life. And now he just, what? Slipped in the dark? He was that careless?”
Damn.
Now comes the hard part.
“Miss Lewis, judging from the footprints at the scene, we suspect Brian wasn’t alone last night.”
“What?” Her eyes fly to me. “What are you saying? Did… did someone push him? Who?”
I don’t say anything, watching her carefully.
She goes pale, recoiling.
“Wait. Am I… am I a suspect?”
“Highly unlikely,” I answer quickly. “However, it would help if you had an alibi so I don’t have to trouble you any further.”
“Mrs. Bowden,” she rushes out. “She’s been checking on me. She knows I didn’t leave my room at all last night, or even today.”
“I’ll talk to Janelle and make sure that’s in the police report.” I lean in closer, watching her. “Can you think of anyone who wanted to hurt Brian?”
“God, no! We don’t even know anyone here,” she flares. “We’re from Sacramento. It’s… we’ve been together since high school. We do everything together. We love going on these trips, but like, anyone who doesn’t like us would be back in California.”
“And the locals? You haven’t had any trouble with them? No drunken bar altercations or road rage?”
“No. Absolutely nothing.” She smiles sadly. “We never went to the bars. We’d go shopping together, but everyone here has been so nice. I can’t imagine anyone wanting to hurt him.”
“Of course.” I lean back in the chair, tapping my fingers on the table. “It may have been a crime of opportunity. It’s also possible it was still an accident and someone else stumbled on the scene and fled after the fact.”
I doubt it.
The depth of the impressions and the dryness of the earth made it clear they happened not long after each other. Moist, exposed dirt from the first set of boot prints would have dried enough in the open air that if someone had stepped over those prints later, the ground would have crumbled differently under their heels.
Still, I don’t want to say anything conclusive to a grieving girl when I can’t confirm anything yet.
She looks skeptical, though.
She looks at me like she wants something from me, something more, and I’m suddenly wishing for Talia again. She’d understand what this hurt, confused young woman truly needs when she stares at me that way.
But then Miss Lewis looks away, staring at the wall.
No, at the camping equipment stacked there, I realize.
She’s playing through her regrets, wondering what would have happened if she’d been with him.
“What now?” she asks hollowly. “What will you do? What do I do?”
“I’m going to pursue an active investigation. We’ll try to get an idea what happened out in the woods. Narrow down possible suspects. Can you stay in town for a few more days? Just in case I need to ask you questions about the investigation or anyone else you’ve spoken to here.”