Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 55328 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 277(@200wpm)___ 221(@250wpm)___ 184(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 55328 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 277(@200wpm)___ 221(@250wpm)___ 184(@300wpm)
“Good news,” I mumbled.
“Not as good as Randall getting fired. He didn’t come into work again this morning, so his ass is grass. That’s the third time. Probably went on another bender or something.”
Randall. Oh God. Randall. Yes, he had gone on a bender. And it hadn’t ended well for him.
“Thank God we won’t have to see his nasty-ass face around here anymore,” she added.
“Yeah.” I choked down a bitter glob in my throat. “Thank God.”
“Claire was going to fire him anyway.”
“Why?” I asked, not entirely vested in the answer. Randall was the sort of man constantly getting into trouble. Eventually, it would catch him. It had.
“You think I wasn’t going to report that shit he said to you? Hell no. I got it all on videotape, too.”
“I’m s-sorry. What?” I asked.
“Yeah. We have cameras inside the trailer and all around the work site. Insurance reasons.”
How did I not know this? They must’ve been those small internet-based things, because I’d never noticed them. “Are there cameras around back?”
“I think so. Why?” she asked.
Because I wanted to see who the man was. Randall seemed to know him. He’d crapped himself and run.
Maybe I should run, too, if I see the man again. Knowing what his face looked like might aid me in that.
“No reason,” I muttered. “I-I just thought I saw something last night. An animal hanging around.”
“Probably a raccoon.”
“Sure. Probably.” There was a deep rumble on the other end of the line.
“Hey. The police are back. I gotta go see what they need. Talk to you in a bit.” The call ended.
I walked over to the bed and sank down. My insides felt all twisted up. I did not want to go back to the scene of the crime. To say I had a bad feeling about it was the understatement of my life.
Maybe I should just get in my car and drive home. Eventually Ripley Construction would work things out with FEMA and get everyone paid, right? And it wasn’t my problem they were cash strapped. Mr. Ripley made the choice not to have a buffer for payroll.
As I sat there, coming up with every reason in the world not to go to the port, my mind snagged on the one thing that pertained only to me. Eventually, they’d discover why Randall hadn’t shown up for work. And eventually, the police would start asking questions: Who hated him? Who stood to gain from his death? Who were his enemies?
No, a man like that didn’t waltz through life without making enemies, but I was the last human soul with a bone to pick.
Fuck. I had to go back.
CHAPTER FIVE
When I arrived at the port over an hour later, the rolling in my stomach was made infinitely worse by the police car parked out back behind the trailer. A couple of men were talking to Rosie, both dressed in black slickers.
The rain had stopped during my drive, but the dark clouds remained overhead, and it was freezing out again today.
Rosie pointed at me as I shut off the engine. The men turned their heads in my direction.
“Great,” I muttered and exited my car, grabbing my long purple coat from the back seat. I threw it on over my black sweater and jeans, hugging it to my body as I went over.
“Jeni,” said Rosie as I stopped a few feet from their little huddle. “Officers Nelson and Franco have a few questions.”
“Sure.” I shrugged, trying to sound friendly. Of course, on the inside, my chest was welling with anxiety because I hated talking. I hated talking to strangers even more. But this? I was involved in a murder and about to be questioned by police. “Ho-how can I help?” I stuttered, doing my best not to stare at my black rainboots.
I didn’t know which man was Nelson and which was Franco, but the bald guy, who looked to be in his fifties, spoke first. “Just making sure we talk to everyone who’s had access to the port. Have you seen anything strange? I understand you stayed late yesterday.”
Rosie looked down at me with a reassuring smile. I was shorter than her, shorter than most people in fact, at a whopping five feet two. That, along with my small frame, made people either feel protective of me or feel like they could push me around. Didn’t help that I had one of those round faces that made me look younger and more innocent than I really was.
“You said there was an animal outside, right?” said Rosie.
“Yeah, um.” I cleared my throat. “I heard some noises. Like, maybe a cat.” But bigger. “Did you see anything on the security footage?”
Rosie shook her head. “The wind must’ve knocked out the camera.” She pointed behind me to the back side of the trailer.
No. Not the wind. Randall probably took it down. He was a criminal type and probably spotted the security equipment, whereas someone like me would hardly notice such a discreet device.