Total pages in book: 65
Estimated words: 60965 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 305(@200wpm)___ 244(@250wpm)___ 203(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 60965 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 305(@200wpm)___ 244(@250wpm)___ 203(@300wpm)
“I can’t—” I start to say but my voice cracks, and I close my eyes. I swallow before firming my resolve to tell Kat, but she cuts me off.
“Just wait one more day. They can’t hold him more than that.”
The guilt seeps into my veins as I nod my head once as I end the call. One day. One more day.
I learned to live without Jace. And I was better off for it. I was happily living a lie. A false life that was devoid of real meaning.
I don’t know that I can live without Mason, and I don’t want to find out.
If I confess, we’re apart.
If he takes the fall, we’re apart.
I have to wait. I have no patience for fate. I don’t know what’s to come, but I won’t let him do this.
As I walk to the large window watching the snow fall from the sky, I listen to the ticking of the clock, waiting to strike.
Mason
“I don’t have anything else to say,” I tell the detective who’s questioning me, the one who refuses to leave. The commissioner is across the room, waiting, eyeing me and probably wondering what his best move to make is. Now that my father’s gone, the balance of power has shifted, so it’s just a question as to where it’s gone and how I play into this game.
Cracking my knuckles one by one, I watch as the skin tightens and turns white before settling into a bright red as I flex my hand.
I don’t want anything to do with this shit. I never did, and I never will.
My eyes lift as Commissioner Haynes strides across the room, pulling out his chair slowly and letting the steel drag across the floor.
He leans back, crossing his arms and looking at me as if he’s sizing me up. I’m sure this is an act, a game, something that he’s done before. I merely look back to my hands. The ones I wrapped around my father’s throat right before he died.
It’s an odd sense of calm that washes over me at the thought. It shouldn’t comfort me. It’s not right to be grateful for another’s death. I carried the weight and burden of Anderson’s death for months. It was only after meeting Jules and knowing I could make her happy that made it all disappear. Maybe if I told her that, it would make it better, but I can’t bring myself to do it. I don’t want her to know how selfish I was.
I wish I could take it back. I wish I’d murdered my father instead. The rage was meant for him, it always was. I was too much of a coward to do it.
“We have the residue from your shirt, Thatcher.” The commissioner finally speaks. I don’t look up, I merely pick under my nails, ignoring him and the heat that makes every inch of my skin tingle. He leans across the table, moving closer to me with his hands clasped as he says matter-of-factly, “We know you didn’t shoot him, but you’re covering for someone. You wiped that gun clean.”
Stupid. I grit my teeth, realizing just how stupid I was for doing that shit. I was so desperate to save her, I wasn’t thinking. My heart pounds over and over again. But I don’t show them a damn thing. I won’t give them anything they can use against her.
It doesn’t escape me that she could tell them everything. She could speak the truth and knowing my Jules, my sweetheart, I can see her doing it.
I could see her admitting it all, every last detail of the past year that’s brought us to this moment. I’d still love her. I’d love her for it.
“I requested my lawyer,” I remind them as I lift my head to look him in the eyes.
He clenches his jaw and the cop on my right shifts his stance, gaining my attention. He’s pissed. He’s young and naïve and thought he was going to break me. He thought that little bit of evidence would do something to scare me into talking.
But my father and grandfather taught me well. When the lies are too big to weave together, you stay silent. You wait for the right story to come along and slowly the pieces will snake in between the crevices. Those around you will create something that will hide them. Silence will kill the evidence. It only needs time.
“Your money can’t save you this time,” the young detective says. I don’t even know his name, nor do I give a fuck. His dark eyes shine with conviction as he squares his shoulders and nods his head. He’s clean-shaven, which only makes him appear younger, but of all the men I’ve met in this building, he’s the only one I have respect for. He believes in justice.