Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 138642 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 693(@200wpm)___ 555(@250wpm)___ 462(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 138642 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 693(@200wpm)___ 555(@250wpm)___ 462(@300wpm)
They’re empty.
Stone-cold.
Measuring me.
Probably asking about my price, assessing whether or not I can be bought to keep this out of the press. The Arrendells have a little bit of a reputation problem to deal with right now.
It’s been a few months since their son turned out to be a prolific serial killer and my lieutenant’s new wife almost ended up as his latest victim. Ulysses and his accomplice, Culver Jacobin, died in police custody in an apparent suicide.
But the whispers are alive and well.
Two suicides connected to the same rich family in just a few months?
People start to wonder.
Including me.
“Tell me her name again,” I clip, watching below as Lieutenant Lucas Graves and Officer Henri Fontenot move through the assembled staff. Their voices sound distant, turned into hollow echoes by the far reaches of the ceiling as they take statements from the house personnel. “How long has she been working here?”
Lucia makes an irritated sound, but then seems to get over herself.
“Cora, I believe,” she says quietly. “Yes, her name was Cora, I... oh dear, what was her last name again? She made the most delightful coq au vin, and she always remembered to pick up this wonderful orange blossom hair mask for me. Oh, I’m so terrible with names...”
Right.
You can remember her damn cooking and shopping trips, but not her name?
“Lafayette,” Montero fills in, smoothing a finger over his thin black mustache. He’s still watching me, unblinking, like we’re playing a game of chicken. I’m not interested. “And I believe we hired her ages ago? It was April, I recall. A delightful spring day. The hawks were out.”
I don’t give two shits about the hawks or all these diverting details.
I just file everything away into a deep, dark file in my head.
I’ve long since learned that taking the direct approach with an Arrendell is useless. The best thing to do is watch. Listen. Read between the lines.
Then wait for the right moment when something slips.
If I’m being honest, there’s not much waiting to be done today.
Whatever pushed this woman to the edge, there’s little doubt that it’s suicide, and after studying Cora Lafayette a little while longer, I sigh and jerk my head to Micah.
“Go with Henri and cut her down. We’ll get the county coroner in, confirm ID, notify the next of kin. Standard procedure.”
Micah frowns. “You want to wait until the autopsy? Knowing the cause of death might give them a little closure, at least.”
“I... yeah.” I clench my jaw, watching that slow depressing sway of the dead woman’s feet.
Closure.
That word stings like hell.
Too much death in this damn haunted house.
Earlier this year, one of those deaths was confirmed to be Lucas’ sister, too.
The first victim.
After years of having to accept that Celeste Graves was just missing, that she’d run off and left him, Lucas finally got the closure he needed on his poor sister.
But Celeste wasn’t the only person who went missing that night.
Rumor had it that Ethan Sanderson—a man I grew up with, a man I loved like a brother, a man who was desperately in love with Celeste—had either run away with her, or else killed her himself and fled.
I knew better, though.
Ethan, he’d have never run off without telling me or leaving his sisters in the dark. I knew him well enough to know he’d never murder the woman he loved. So with Celeste dead and her case shut, that leaves the question.
Where is he?
What happened to Ethan?
Where’s my fucking closure?
What the hell happened to my best friend?
And what about his family; what about—
Fuck.
I can’t bring myself to think her name.
Even after all these years, the ache of missing her stings. Just as fresh as if she only left yesterday.
No.
Like I only drove her away yesterday.
I never got a chance to apologize. Maybe I never will.
I don’t know if she’s ever coming back.
There’s a part of me that wants to break my silence. To demand that Lucia and Montero cough up that information, spill everything they know about my very personal lingering mystery.
For all their big fluffy speeches as First and Second Selectman of Redhaven, North Carolina, waffling on with We can’t express enough how sorry we are for our son’s actions and Our apologies to this beautiful town for the horrors its citizens have faced, I think they know.
Yeah, bull.
They know more about what their son was really up to than they let on.
“Captain?” Micah presses.
“Yeah,” I finally confirm, tossing my head at him. “Get going. Call it in.”
He nods sharply and walks off, slipping his fingers between his lips and whistling toward the ballroom to get Henri’s attention. I watch Henri glance up, then peel his tall frame away from the crowd and walk toward the red-carpeted stairs.
I beam a long look at Montero first, then Lucia. “Mr. and Mrs. Arrendell, where are your sons right now?”