Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 76713 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76713 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
That was why this was so shocking.
“What is it?” August whispered when my hands grabbed the back of his jacket as we stepped into the empty kitchen, all stainless steel and empty counters. My father didn’t even keep his small appliances out, preferring the toaster, air fryer, and blender to be tucked in the cabinets when not in use.
There was a to-go container overturned on the counter, the contents spilled all over the floor. Along with a shattered coffee cup.
“Fuck,” August hissed, moving away from me to open the back door to let in Aurelio.
“What’s go… oh,” Aurelio said, seeing the mess.
“Is that blood?” I asked, pointing toward the edge of the counter.
August stooped to look.
He didn’t spare me from the truth.
I appreciated that.
“Yes.”
“There’s some drops here,” Aurelio said, pointing toward the path he’d just walked in from the back door.
“Do you know if you can access the security system here?” August asked. “There’s cameras everywhere.”
There was.
There always had been.
Even if I wanted to, I never would’ve been able to get away with anything as a kid.
“Maybe,” I said, walking on numb legs toward the study at the front of the house.
No bookshelves to get dusty.
Just a desk and chair.
There was a all-in-one computer on the desk, a cup with exactly three pens, and a picture of me.
But not one from when I was a little girl.
No.
This was from the opening of my shop.
I hadn’t been aware of him taking it.
It was of me smiling up at my sign before I officially opened my doors ten seconds later.
It wasn’t until I was looking at that picture that I realized I hadn’t felt that way—blissfully happy—about my life in a long time.
The closest I had gotten lately was when I was playing house with August at the hotel.
I shook those thoughts away as I moved behind the desk, powering up the laptop, and trying a couple passwords before I finally got it.
My birthdate.
In reverse.
My father could be such a cold, detached man. But I was seeing more and more that there was a lot of love buried deep in there.
Hopefully, it wasn’t too late to try to repair things.
I doubted we’d ever be the kind of family that August and Aurelio got to have. But we could be better than we were.
If he was still alive.
I fiddled around on the laptop for a minute, finding that he kept absolutely everything buried in folders upon folders. Even the icon for his security system. Most of said folders were password locked.
Thankfully, the one with the security system wasn’t locked, and the feeds came up relatively easily.
I watched in reverse as I moved into the study, as we talked in the kitchen, as August and I first came in.
August’s footsteps moved toward the study, coming around the desk as I rewound through nothingness.
And then, movement.
People in the frame.
Men.
My father fighting with someone, then whacking his head on the way down, where he landed unconscious.
“There,” August said as I made the image freeze.
As all the blood left my body.
“What is it?” August asked. “Traveler?” he asked, but it wasn’t until he touched me that I seemed to snap out of it. “Do you know who it is?” he asked.
Yes.
Yes, I did.
“That’s my Uncle Stan.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Traveler
It made perfect sense.
Had I more time to really go over the events of the night, I would have likely come to this conclusion even without the footage of his betrayal.
Of course it had been Stan.
The man in my house, entrusted with my safety.
He had access to my phone while I’d been in the shower, stealing it so I couldn’t call for help, couldn’t tell my father what was happening.
Because killing me was just the first phase in the process.
The timestamp on the video from my father’s house put it about twenty minutes after I stole his fancy-ass car and went for reinforcements.
“Trav, come on,” August said, grabbing my hand, and physically pulling me away from the desk, forcing me to go with him into the foyer, out the front door.
I paused numbly to lock the system.
Force of habit.
Then I followed August and Aurelio to Milo’s car.
“What’s his address?” August asked as my head spun.
My “uncle” betraying my father.
How long had it been going on?
Was it just him, or were Don and Chuck in on it too?
Did it bother Stan to have to beat the girl he’d watched grow up?
Did he feel guilty for trying to strangle the life out of me?
So many questions.
And I was going to get some goddamn answers.
I rattled off his address and I swear my rage grew with each block we drove in that direction.
“It’s an apartment?” August asked, shocking me out of my swirling thoughts.
“What?”
“Stan lives in an apartment?” August asked.
“I, ah, yeah,” I said.
“He couldn’t bring your father here,” August said.
Right.
Duh.
“I, ah… this is the only address I know,” I told him, shaking my head.