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)
The man was insane, but apparently I was more afraid of going to prison for being an accomplice to murder than I was of him, so I didn’t protest when he slid into the back seat of my car.
Why me? Why my help? I wondered as we drove away from the port, taking one of the many detours.
“The answer is simple,” he said.
“Sorry?” I glanced in the rearview mirror, finding those hypnotic blue eyes drilling into me. Yes. Drilling. Like he was boring inside my head, searching for something.
But that wasn’t possible, and dead men didn’t come back to life. He was a con man. I bet he’s going to try to get some money out of me.
“And you would be correct, Jeni. About the money part, at least. However, I am no con man.”
What in the fucking world? I must’ve said that thought out loud.
He turned his attention out the window, taking in the destruction left by Hurricane Mia. It was pretty shocking.
Isn’t that right? I asked silently.
See. He can’t read my thoughts. He was just good at predicting what any normal person might think in this situation. “S-so how much money do you want?” I asked timidly.
“As much as it takes.”
“What takes?”
“I believe I covered that point already.” Every word he spoke came out filled with a subdued superiority, like a master might speak to his servant in the old world.
“And why do you think I can help you?”
“I have no money, no credit cards, and no identification. You will assist me with the resources I require.”
If it was just about money, I could give him whatever I had in my checking account. All eight hundred bucks.
“It is not so simple,” he said. “You have an honest face, dear Jeni. And your timid demeanor will be of use to me.”
I pulled over, next to a pile of trees that had been pushed to the side of the road. I swiveled in my seat. I wanted to tell him to fuck himself. I wasn’t weak. I was… I was…
“Yes?” Amused, he arched a dark brow. “Do you wish to say something?”
My mouth flapped like a tribute to my introverted nature. And I didn’t care to change. I had no desire to be brave, stand out, or rule the world. I just wanted to be left alone.
I drew a deep breath and turned back around, facing the steering wheel. “Where do you want to go?” I looked up at the rearview mirror again.
He dipped his head of thick, lustrous black hair. “The police station.”
Was he turning himself in already? Given what he’d just said, it didn’t make sense. But none of this did. He was a con man, after money, working some angle. He was also a killer.
“Yes, and you’d best not forget that.” He added, “You will go into the station, ask for Officer Nelson, and tell him you understand they have questions.”
“Why would I do that?”
He ignored me and continued. “You will tell him you did not witness anything. Naturally, they will ask why you are there, and you will say that you have information: You may recognize the box from somewhere—another jobsite you have been on, though you are unsure. You were unable to get a proper look. You will then ask to see it so that you might confirm if it is the same.”
What the hell? Where was he going with this?
He went on, “And, Jeni, before you think up some wonderful excuse as to why you will not go along with my instructions, I will remind you that I hold the keys to your freedom. I may, at any time, tell the authorities you participated in Randall’s murder.”
That angry feeling in my chest began stirring. It was the same one I’d had yesterday when Randall told me he wanted to fuck me nice and dirty.
I pushed the morbid, vile thoughts away, looking down at the steering wheel. “Why are you doing this to me?”
“Do I seem like the sort of man who wishes to repeat himself?”
He looked like the type who’d kill me if I didn’t do as I was told. “What happens if they agree to show me the container?”
“You look at it. Inside and out. Then you say you were mistaken, that you thought it might have been one your company often uses to transport demolition materials, but you’ve never seen the particular container before.”
This made no sense. I’d be raising suspicion just to look at the metal box he believed he came to shore in. The man was mad.
“Yes. Quite,” he said.
I was beginning to think I’d hit my head last night and kept unintentionally saying my thoughts out loud, because, and call me crazy for thinking this, he seemed to be responding to my thoughts.
“You are smarter than you look, Jeni. Now move, and do not think of double-crossing me. Or shall I list all of the repercussions?”