Total pages in book: 112
Estimated words: 106839 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 534(@200wpm)___ 427(@250wpm)___ 356(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106839 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 534(@200wpm)___ 427(@250wpm)___ 356(@300wpm)
“Rosie!” I call. “What is goin’ on?”
She turns—well, everybody on the street turns. Even a couple of horses look our way—and points at me. “You’re stalking me!”
I point to myself as well. “What?”
“You’ve been popping up at all my jobs. Which is fine, I guess. It’s a free country. But sending me those letters, Amon? It’s creepy.”
“What letters? I don’t know what you’re talking about. And I’m not stalking you! We just seem to frequent the same places.”
She plants her hands on her hips. “Oh, so you didn’t mean to come into my shop this morning?”
I sigh. “Well, yeah. Today. But not all those other times. And I haven’t sent you no letters.”
Rosie lets out a long breath, then suddenly becomes aware of all the attention we are garnering from the good people of Bishop. They are all open-mouthed staring at us because we have created—in the words of old-timey people everywhere—a spectacle. Which is highly frowned upon when one’s downtown is a stage filled with actors just trying to do their jobs.
Even though Rosie is on the other side of the gate, I extend my hand in her direction. “Come back inside, for fuck’s sake. Whatever you think is happening, I’m not a part of it.”
She eyes me suspiciously one more time, then the people and horses, who are still watching her, and lets out an exasperated breath. “False alarm, people!” She calls this out brightly, letting all the busybodies know that the show is over. Then she gathers up her skirts and swishes her way back through the gate, past me, and back inside.
I tip an imaginary hat in the direction of a group of men, begging their pardon, and follow her back inside. “Should I leave the door open?” I ask, annoyed with her and the scene she just made. “Since you obviously think I’m some kind of pervert.”
Rosie walks over to her desk, collapses into the chair, and lets out a dramatic sigh. “I’m sorry. It’s just… I’ve been getting letters and you’ve been everywhere this past week and… well.” She sighs. “I’m rattled, that’s all. So I jumped the gun, I guess.”
I grab the only other chair in here and drag it over next to her desk. Then I sit down. “Start over, OK? What the hell is going on?”
Rosie starts from the beginning and tells me about the first letter that was sent to McBooms while showing me the one that came here. When she tells me about the other one that came to the Revenant diner, her paranoia is understandable.
“And they’re all in code, Amon! Like… military things or… homeschool.”
I can’t help but crack a smile. “Military or homeschool, huh?”
She lets out an exasperated sigh. “Whatever. Make fun of me, if you want. But it’s weird! Someone is stalking me!”
Someone is stalking her. And they’re doing it in a very strange way. “Can I have the worksheets?”
“What for?”
“To run some forensics. I’ve still got good DC contacts for that sort of thing. I can send it in and see if they can find anything.”
Rosie nods, folding the one she’s holding back up and setting it on the desk in front of me. “The second one is in my purse. And the third one is at home. What kind of forensics are you gonna do?”
“Fingerprints, for sure. But we can do DNA, ink, and paper analysis as well as check it for chemicals. Some of that might take a few weeks, but we can get fingerprints in a couple days, I suspect.”
“Oh, that sounds complicated, Amon. Maybe I’m just being stupid. Does it really deserve all this attention? Maybe someone is just trying to sell me homeschool curriculum and I’m completely overreacting?”
One of my eyebrows cocks up. “What is going on with this homeschool thing?”
“Well, it’s kinda popular these days. There’s always a couple articles about it in my mommy magazines. They like weird shit like this.”
“OK. Well, I’ll take your word on that. And if that’s what it is, fine. There’s nothing to be worried about. But don’t you think that if someone was trying to sell you homeschool books they’d have put the name of the company on the paper? So you could look them up or whatever?”
She chews on her lip a little, then sighs again. “Yes.” Her eyes go all serious now, getting wider and worried. “It’s not homeschool stuff, Amon. Someone’s sending these things to me on purpose.”
“Yep,” I agree. “And that’s dangerous. But don’t you worry, I’ll take care of it.”
She exhales, her shoulders relaxing. “Thank you.” Then she smiles at me. “I’m really sorry I overreacted. But I had just started putting it all together a few moments before you walked through my door, so—”
“It’s understandable. Do you want me to stay while you work? Because I will.”