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)
Nell’s nose scrunches up and her mouth quivers.
For a second, I think she’s about to burst into a proper tantrum—but then she catches herself.
She’s been doing that a lot more lately. Too grown-up to cry, trying to be a big girl and act ladylike. So after a few trembling moments, she sniffs and lifts her chin.
“I’m not speaking to you,” she announces.
“Fine,” I answer, exchanging patient looks with my parents. “As long as you get your homework done, you don’t have to.”
Nell doesn’t answer.
Guess she’s serious about the silent treatment then.
What the fuck ever.
That leaves things a little quiet and strained, the adults talking about Redhaven’s latest gossip while Nell makes a very loud, spoon-clanking show of finishing her ice cream.
There’s really not much else to say.
My parents and I keep in regular contact, and it’s a small town—everyone knows what’s going on with everyone else, and when you’re not the gossipy type, there’s not much to add.
I see enough truth behind the rumors up close, the petty and ugly and explosive.
That doesn’t stop Ma from making a pointed comment about hearing a certain someone’s back in town.
My father gives me a knowing look.
Shit, I should’ve expected this.
I just grunt and ignore them, but I guess it’s proof how mad Nell really is when that doesn’t even get her to prick up her nosy little ears. The kid’s a diabolical little gossip in the making, always up in everyone’s business and connecting dots most grown-ups wish she couldn’t string together.
Half the time, I’m proud of her when she’s smart as a whip.
The other half, I wonder if she’s too old to keep quiet with a pacifier.
Some of the stuff that comes out of her mouth would make the Pope blush.
When everyone’s done, I kiss my mother’s cheek, let my father clap a friendly hand to my shoulder, then usher a sulking Nell outside to the car.
As I tuck her into the passenger seat and watch her to make sure she fastens her seat belt, something hits me.
Don’t know what to call it. An instinct, I guess, like somebody just touched the back of my neck with ice-cold fingertips.
It makes me look up just in time.
There’s a man across the street who makes me frown.
I don’t recognize him, and I know damn near everyone in town.
All part of my job as the highest-ranking officer below Chief Bowden. It’s also just part of living in a town with a population in the low four digits.
This guy, he’s older, maybe early sixties. Gaunt. Grey hair combed neatly, despite the wild-eyed look.
Sunken cheekbones, deeply hollowed eyes that lock on mine like he wants something.
Never seen him before in my life. Could be a tourist since we’ve got a lot of people staying up at Janelle Bowden’s B&B, The Rookery, currently at full capacity with the autumn leaves turning.
That outfit looks familiar, though.
Waistcoat.
Tailcoat.
Slacks.
White gloves.
Who the hell wears gloves this time of year in broad day—
Oh.
Yeah, I’m pretty sure I saw a few of the household staff up at the big house decked out just like that guy. The Arrendells really take the whole old-world butler thing to an extreme, right down to the uniforms.
Considering I just came from checking out a suicide up there this morning, I’ve got some weird-ass feelings about one of their employees standing out here in the middle of the street in his work clothes, just staring like he’s never seen an irritated cop before.
I know I’m probably overthinking it.
The Lord and Lady of the manor who signs his checks are probably real fuckin’ jumpy after the whole thing with their psycho son.
I wouldn’t put it past them to send a minion or two to keep tabs on me so I don’t try to kick up any more shit that’ll harm their precious reputation.
I narrow my eyes at the man, flashing him a challenging look, but he doesn’t move.
His expression never changes, even when I cock my head questioningly.
All right then.
I make a mental note to do a little digging, see if I can ID him, but for now I’ve got a little girl I don’t want anywhere near anyone connected to the Arrendells and their depressing bullshit.
I settle behind the wheel of my patrol car and delay pulling out until I’m sure my parents are safely ahead of us.
The weirdo across the street doesn’t seem remotely interested in them.
When I pull out, though, and check the rearview mirror, his head cranes, following me down the street.
Nah, I don’t like this.
One more problem I sure as hell don’t need.
By the time we get home, little Nell still hasn’t relented.
I get the scorned princess act all the way through homework, dinner, and cleaning up for bed.
I’m not going to push at her.
She’ll get tired of ignoring me in a day or two. She’s a needy little kitten, thrives on attention, and I’m her favorite source. Ignoring me just hurts her, so she’ll make up her own mind when she’s good and ready to forgive.