Total pages in book: 113
Estimated words: 107115 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 536(@200wpm)___ 428(@250wpm)___ 357(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107115 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 536(@200wpm)___ 428(@250wpm)___ 357(@300wpm)
“Good. I don’t know what this means, how it might fit in, or if it will even help the cause, but…” Ethan pulled his phone from his pocket and flashed Matt a picture of a scrap of paper containing a scribble of numbers. “This is what I’ve got for you. It’s everything Todd kept in that safe in his closet. Front”—Ethan flipped to the next image, which was a shorter version of the same—“and back.”
Fuck. Matt had been hoping for more. Then again, Toddhole was probably too slippery to keep anything incriminating at home. “Any idea what those numbers mean? The front looks like a complicated subtraction problem. Why would he write that down? What do the two numbers, each with two digits before the decimal point and six digits after, represent?”
Ethan shrugged. “It’s not a bank account number or a routing number. Google was no help. So I did the math on it. The answer is negative seventy-one point nine nine nine two one one. That mean anything to you?’
“Not a fucking thing.” Matt sighed tiredly. “Maybe they’re coordinates? I don’t know. The answer is staring us in the goddamn face. I know it. And the three-digit code on the back doesn’t ring any bells, either? Todd never mentioned it? There was nothing else in the safe to explain it?”
The kid shook his head. “Sorry.”
Matt resisted the urge to destroy everything in the room with his bare hands to purge his frustration. He’d had such high hopes for the contents of Todd’s hidden floor safe, and this felt like a dead end. “So what do a complex subtraction problem and the number two forty-two have in common?”
“Maybe nothing.”
Matt didn’t believe that. Todd had written those numbers on opposite sides of the same scrap of paper for a reason.
“Let me see the pictures again.” He held out his hand for the phone.
Ethan set it in his palm. “Have at it. In the meantime, I’m grabbing coffee. I’ll think better with caffeine.”
“Same.” Matt poured a mug next, still flipping back and forth between the images.
The java hit his system, and the lifeblood of the brew kickstarted his brain. Goddamn it, he should be able to figure this out. He needed to. His entire fucking life he’d been good at compartmentalizing his feelings from his objectives. Now…Madison filled his head, cluttered his thoughts, and fucked his concentration.
“We also have to decide what to do about the ER doctor spilling Madison’s pregnancy to the family,” Ethan pointed out.
Thankfully, that was one problem Matt had been able to both identify and solve. “Turns out our buddy, Dr. Connard, is fucking his nanny. When I pointed out that his wife might be really interested in that information, he was suddenly willing to negotiate. We both agreed that since the Pershings have hinted to the public that Madison is pregnant as a means of explaining her ‘fainting incident,’ that the family must know she’s expecting, so he’s not really keeping anything from them. That should be that—unless Connard is down for a messy divorce.”
“Glad that’s one less cluster to deal with.”
“For now.” Matt didn’t trust anyone who wiggled on a hook, depending on who applied the most pressure. But threats had taken a load off this situation. Matt would have to work fast and resolve it in case the Pershings squeezed Connard even harder and he blabbed.
Two steps forward, one step back.
“What’s the latest out of the Pershing camp? Have they picked a date yet for the event where they’ll announce Madison’s pregnancy?”
“Yeah. But Winston only has a razor-thin lead, so they’re milking this. It’s not a simple one-location, one-speech event. They want to make it a full-splash extravaganza. They’ll be addressing a public audience and simultaneously hosting remote events around the state, along with loads of press in attendance and a social media live stream. After a fiery speech from Winston, they’ll show a video tribute to Todd and Madison”—Ethan made gagging noises—“before announcing their fictional bundle of joy. They’ll end by celebrating their resilient residents with free strawberry shortcake and a partridge in a pear tree.”
Matt gritted his teeth, hating that the world would think, even for an instant, that Madison was pregnant by that repugnant asswipe. “When?”
“Two weeks from tomorrow.”
Two fucking weeks? “Anything else?”
“I chucked Todd’s ‘scary’ skull ring into the back of one of his bathroom drawers. He’ll find it…eventually, and think he misplaced it while he was toasted.”
Unless the ring’s resting place tipped off Toddhole, Matt didn’t care. “Had he mentioned missing it?”
“No, but I’ve seen him searching all over the apartment for something this past week or so.”
“Took him long enough to realize it wasn’t on his finger,” Matt drawled.
“Way longer than it should have. But that’s not our biggest problem. Listen, the Pershings are brewing something. I don’t like it. The sooner we figure out these numbers and you extract all the information possible from your contact and from Trees, the sooner we can game-plan.”