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)
I curl my hands around the warm ceramic of my cappuccino mug, watching her as she stirs precisely half a packet of sugar into her black coffee.
“Janelle?” I murmur. “Is something wrong? You’ve seemed a little off all morning. Is something on your mind?”
“Oh—what isn’t these days?” She ducks her head, her lips curling in a dry humorless smile. “Everything’s been so strange in Redhaven the past year, you know. I suppose I’m just carrying a lot of it with me, dear.”
“I don’t follow.” I shake my head.
“Well, I’m sure you heard about what happened earlier this year, didn’t you? With Delilah Clarendon—pardon, Delilah Graves now.”
“Yep, I heard the news. Mom filled me in on some of it. So did Grant.”
“Yes, well...” She sighs. “That whole nasty business, I feel like I could’ve prevented so much of it if I just hadn’t been so naïve and trusting. Poor Delilah trusted me with a safe place to stay and I practically handed her off into danger. I sent her to that house. I told her he was safe to trust and I said the Jacobins were harmless. They weren’t, none of them. Not when she was being lured in from day one, and they would have disposed of her body in the filthiest way when they were done with her. And my useless potato of a husband, he just—”
She stops, compressing her lips and stirring her coffee fiercely. The spoon clinks harshly against the sides of her mug.
It takes me a second to absorb that from Janelle Bowden, of all people.
She’s East Coast prim and proper to a fault, never has a mean word, wouldn’t speak ill of anyone. And she and Chief Bowden have been happily married for so long.
I’m totally confused.
“Hey, I don’t think you should blame yourself for any of that. Nobody knew Redhaven had a home-grown serial killer,” I say softly. “You want to see the best in people. That’s natural, and it’s hard to believe any normal person would do something like that, killing those poor girls. You had no reason to believe it was happening. But I guess I don’t understand—what about Chief Bowden?”
Janelle stares down into her mug, her eyes glassy before she looks away sharply, staring across the street with something distant and strange in her expression.
“It just didn’t feel right, that’s all,” she mutters, more to herself than me. “He acted like he didn’t even want to investigate the entire affair, always looking the other way, dismissing disturbances, brushing them off as unimportant. It didn’t sit right with me. It doesn’t sit right with me now. Any time I mention the folks up at the big house or the hillfolk, he just glazes over and stomps off to trim his nails.”
She stops again.
Her jaw goes tight with a swallow.
“Sorry. I didn’t know I’d married such a weak man,” she whispers. “All he cares about is not rocking the boat. I realize now it’s all he ever cared about. I’m sorry, Ophelia. I’m sorry he never tried harder to find your brother. Especially with what we know now.”
Those words hit so hard they practically blow me out of my chair.
I don’t know if I fully get what she’s implying about her own husband, but...
Has Chief Bowden been complicit in covering up the Arrendells’ and Jacobins’ crimes? Or is he just plain lazy?
Does he pretend not to notice so he can claim not to know?
That fall chill in the air suddenly feels ten times colder.
Pressing my trembling fingers against my mug isn’t enough to warm my cold skin.
“It’s not your fault,” I hiss faintly, struggling for words. “I’m so sorry, Janelle. I had no idea things were so rough between you two.”
“Don’t we just look like the perfect couple? If people only knew...” she answers bitterly, then glances back at me with a hard, almost angry smile. “Well. Not that anyone sees us together much anymore. I barely know where he even goes these days. But I’m sorry. I just erupted all over you, didn’t I?”
“It’s fine,” I reassure her. “Way better out than holding it in. I know sometimes it’s easier to talk to someone who hasn’t been wrapped up in every day of your life for the last ten years.”
“Yes, well, the walls do have ears in this town, don’t they? I’m grateful you won’t be sniggering about me behind my back and gossiping over the neighbor’s fence.” She frowns. “Though lately it seems your sister’s more the talk of the town.”
“Ros?” I groan. “It’s Aleksander, isn’t it?”
She cocks her head.
“I’m afraid so, dear. Everyone’s acting like it’s our own hometown Cinderella story. I suppose they need to, seeing how we’re all still reeling over the Celeste Graves business. People want some happy news, something to redeem our local royalty.” But her voice falls flat when she says it, and she takes a slow sip of her coffee. “I wish I could say Aleksander Arrendell was our prince.”