Total pages in book: 135
Estimated words: 132321 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 662(@200wpm)___ 529(@250wpm)___ 441(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 132321 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 662(@200wpm)___ 529(@250wpm)___ 441(@300wpm)
“I don’t remember her doing that,” I admit, my voice clogged with emotion. “But it feels like the right thing to do.”
My father’s hand tightens on my shoulder, a small gesture of support. “She was always so gentle with them,” he says, his voice low and filled with sadness. “She loved you very much. She’d be so proud of you.”
I blink back the tears, trying to keep my composure. “Thank you.”
“Set your anger aside. Our job is to give her peace and help her say goodbye in the most loving way possible.”
“I know.” A tear slips down my cheek and I brush it away. “I wish I could do more.”
He pulls me into a rare hug. “You’re doing more than enough.”
“Thanks,” I say against his sweater.
He gently nudges me toward the door. “I’ll finish this.”
He may have said my concern for the babies who come into our care was passed from my mother. But it came from him. I’ve watched him read to children, leave lights on for them, and tuck stuffed animals into their caskets since I was little. Although he seems cold at times, now that I’ve been doing the job myself for a couple of years, I understand why.
Alone in the hallway, I put my back to the wall and close my eyes.
How to fix this? How, how, how?
Where is the closest Horizon Inn?
My mind races with possibilities, dark thoughts I pull closer and examine. Doing nothing, letting that monster get away, gnaws at me. I see so many awful things, but some are just too much.
A rumble from outside intrudes on my murderous musings. Is that Jigsaw?
My heart trips over itself. I push away from the wall and hurry toward the back door.
It is him. Standing at the bottom of the porch steps. He smiles as soon as he sees me, crinkles forming at the corners of his eyes.
He’s the first good thing in days.
“Hi.” I hurry to the next to last step which almost puts us at eye-level. “What are you doing here?”
He focuses his smoldering gaze on me. “I thought we had a lesson tonight.” He lifts an eyebrow.
Oh my God. The last forty-eight hours have been such a stressful whirlwind of sadness and work, I forgot all about our date—err, lesson.
“It’s been a rough couple of days.” My voice breaks and my eyes fill with tears that I somehow hang onto. “I don’t think I’m up for a lesson. I’m sorry you came all the way out here.” I turn to run inside and bury myself under my pillows, but Jigsaw catches my hand, thwarting my escape. “Hey, hey, what happened?”
I shake my head, unable to share details. “Just work stuff.”
“Okay. Come here.” He pulls me against his chest and rubs his gloved hand over my back. “No lesson, then. Have you eaten?”
Have I? If I did, it was a while ago. “No,” I mumble pitifully.
He releases me but keeps his hands on my shoulders. “Let’s go somewhere and get dinner, then. You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to but let’s get you out of here for a little while.”
I blink up at him and study his serious face. “You…you want to do that?”
“Yeah. Come on.” He steps away and gestures toward his bike parked up against the side of the house.
“I don’t—”
“Right. Right. Sorry.” He squeezes his eyes shut for a second. “We’ll take your car.”
“I have to go inside and get my keys.”
“Okay.” He follows me up the stairs into the house, where we promptly run into my father and my cousin.
My father’s eyes widen when Jigsaw steps in behind me. Then, a faint smile crosses his face.
“Jensen, how are you?”
“Evening, Mr. Cedarwood.” He shakes my father’s hand quickly.
“Jensen, this is my nephew, Paul.”
They do their introduction handshake thing. How much has my father told Paul about his arrangement with the motorcycle club?
“I was in the neighborhood and thought I’d swing by and see if you needed help with anything,” Jigsaw lies smoothly. “I ran into Margot in the parking lot. She said it’s been a rough day, so I thought I’d take her out to grab some dinner.”
“That’s a great idea.” My father looks at me with relief.
Here I thought he’d flip at the idea of me spending time with any of the bikers.
“Your dad filled me in on the case, Margot,” Paul says with sympathy shining in his eyes. Children always get to him too. “You should get out for a bit. I’ll handle the callbacks you’re waiting for.”
“My notes are on the desk in Dad’s office.” I glance at the staircase. “I need to run up and grab my car keys.”
Dad frowns in confusion.
“I only brought my bike.” Jigsaw hikes his thumb over his shoulder.
The expression on Dad’s face slips into respectful gratitude. He knows how I feel about motorcycles. He must be pleased Jigsaw doesn’t expect me to ride on one.