Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 120230 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 601(@200wpm)___ 481(@250wpm)___ 401(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 120230 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 601(@200wpm)___ 481(@250wpm)___ 401(@300wpm)
“Lunes, my Lunes,” he’d drawl when picking up my backpack to throw into the back of whatever vehicle we’d hired for our latest adventure into the bush. “You don’t have to bring the entire library, you know.”
“That’s what you think” had been my usual response.
Now, as I walked into the lounge, I thought about the scarf I’d found in his pocket. Perhaps it was the wine, but the words just slipped out. “Why do you have Beatrice’s scarf?”
25
Kaea’s face stilled for a second before his shoulders kind of hunched in and he pressed his hands to his face. When he dropped them, it was to reveal an expression raw with grief.
“She left it in my room once, while we were hanging out playing video games. I kept on meaning to give it back to her, never quite got around to it . . . And then . . .” He dug his fingers into the back of the sofa. “I couldn’t let go of it. I should’ve left it at home this week, but I didn’t—because she should’ve been here for this.
“She should’ve been roasting me about my love life, should’ve been helping Ash mix drinks, should’ve been sneaking bits of Aaron’s creations while he threatened to chase her out of the kitchen. We can pretend as much as we want, but it’s not right without her. It’ll never be right again. We’ll never be right again.”
Eyes hot with emotion, he looked over at where Ash had sat for much of the night. “Bea made him better. Darcie’s made him what she always wanted. Like he’s a doll and she’s maneuvering his limbs so he behaves in certain ways. Preppy, polite Ash who holds her hand and wears coordinated clothing she picks out.”
My throat thick, I sat down on the coffee table and held his gaze. “Yes.” It came out ragged, rough. “Be honest with me. Did you play that prank with the doll?” His anger altered the equation, made it far more likely that he’d struck out.
He made a face. “Believe it or not, I have grown up. That was just mean, the whole doll thing.” A hesitation, his lips pressed together among all that dark beard stubble that just made him more handsome.
“What?”
“Leave out my sabotaged boot and it’s all been done to Darcie, did you notice? And unlike Nix, I do think someone is behind it. Just a few too many coincidences.”
My temples throbbed. “But who?” I hissed under my breath, glancing over at the door that led from the kitchen to the lounge.
Unflexing his hand, he held it in that taut, stretched position for a long breath before exhaling. “I don’t know. While you were searching the house, I got to wondering whether we’re all alone here after all.”
His dark eyes met mine. “I mean, how hard would it be to hide in this huge pile, and only come out when none of us is looking? Not a single one of us has been over to the ruined wing. We have no idea if parts of it remain habitable.”
A chill crept over my spine, the tiny hairs on my arms standing up. “We talked about that,” I admitted. “In the passageway. It seemed ridiculous once we walked out. Ghost stories around a campfire.”
Kaea’s gaze flicked to the kitchen door again, back to me. “I’ve been thinking about that break-in at Darcie and Ash’s. There was something really ugly about it, just off. What if it wasn’t drug addicts? What if it was personal and that person followed them here?”
My face was flushing hot and cold, hot and cold. It was an anxiety response, one I’d had forever. Pressing my fingers to my temples, I tried to still the roar in my head, the sloshing in my gut. “But if Darcie is the target, why come after her now? And here? It’s a long way to go for a stalker. Much easier to wait until she’s back in Auckland, carrying on with her regular routine.”
“Who knows? Darcie is very good at keeping secrets.” His voice shook, the muscles in his forearm standing out as he clenched his hand into a fist against the brocade of the couch. “I never thought she’d do it to us, though. I saw her lie with glib ease to others, but I never thought she’d do it to us until she did.”
My mouth dried up. “What are you talking about?”
“You should ask her about Professor Hammett sometime,” he said just as the door from the kitchen opened with a small creak of sound.
The others spilled into the room, laughing and talking among themselves.
“Nightcap, anyone?” Vansi asked, lifting a pretty cut-glass bottle. “I have butterscotch liqueur.”
“I’m out.” I got up with a wince. “I’m too old and decrepit to handle my liquor. Good night, my young friends.”