Total pages in book: 40
Estimated words: 41105 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 206(@200wpm)___ 164(@250wpm)___ 137(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 41105 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 206(@200wpm)___ 164(@250wpm)___ 137(@300wpm)
“Was anybody in that bar looking for her?” I ask.
“Yes.”
“How many?”
“Two.”
“Have they been handled?”
“Of course.”
Sighing, I shake my head. “I’m prepared to hear whatever speech you want to give me.”
“I’ve decided to save it for later.”
“I’d rather hear it now.”
“Miss Jane’s fake passport is ready, but I don’t think we need to waste her talents in Canada. We can use her in a far more lucrative way.”
“Come again?”
“I heard back from our Interpol contact moments after you showed up, and Miss Jane is no longer on my shit list. I like her so much now that I might even bake her a cake.”
“Start speaking English, Chester.”
“I am. She has some skills that are in desperate need of exploiting.”
I pull onto the shoulder and hit the brakes so hard his head hits the dashboard.
“What fucking skills?” I ask.
He holds up his phone, showing me a long list with highlighted purple lines.
Grabbing it, I quickly find myself face to face with Autumn’s Canadian criminal record.
“I think it’s time for you to apologize for everything you’ve ever said about her.” I say, “I’m officially impressed…”
End of Episode 7
Coldness Unraveling
EPISODE 8
Autumn
Kylie is pacing in front of a car when I pull into the parking lot.
My headlights wash over her, revealing a new version of the woman I last saw years ago.
Dressed in a dark grey sweatsuit, her auburn hair is chopped shoulder-length with bangs; her once-hot pink ends are tinged in a soft green.
I slide my car next to hers, and she rushes to the driver’s side once I open the door.
“Oh god, I thought you’d never arrive!” She pulls me into a much-needed hug.
The familiar scent of her juniper perfume brings a smile to my lips, and I suddenly remember the times we stuffed stolen bottles into our winter coats.
“You look so good, Autumn.” She hugs me tighter. “So damn good.”
“Thank you, Kylie.” I smile. “You, too.”
“Okay, well…” She slowly lets me go and looks around. “We’ve lost too much time already, and we need to go ahead and switch cars.”
“Huh?”
“This lot doesn’t have any bushes or tree lines like the bar,” she says, pointing to a cement building in the distance. “There’s a parking garage over there. Can you follow me, so we can make the switch?”
“What are you talking about, Kylie?”
“I didn’t want to scare you too much, but I rented this car and bought everything inside it for you.” She walks to the trunk and pops it open. “I have everything you could possibly need for wherever you decide to go next.”
An assortment of black and grey duffle bags, Tupperware containers, and magazines are neatly arranged next to a small suitcase. A shiny metal gun gleams from inside a clear tote.
“It’s not registered to anyone, don’t worry,” she says, taking it out and running a finger along its barrel. “My dad has always sworn by this model for me and my mom.”
I stare at the gun as she checks the chamber.
It’s fully loaded…
“Kylie, I’m confused.” I pick up the top magazine, The Best Hidden Places in America. “I thought you insisted on driving all this way to tell me whatever words you couldn’t say over the phone.”
“I’m doing that, too, but you’ll need to hit the road right after. Trust me.”
I stare at her, waiting for her to reveal the punchline.
She’s always been a comedienne, but her humor was usually self-deprecating with hints of truth. Outlandish takes were never her forte.
“I got you this, too.” She pulls a pink and coral tube from her pocket and presses it into my hand. “It’s a blade on one side and nearly lethal pepper spray for whenever you can’t get your gun fast enough. Put it on your keychain and never let it out of your sight.”
“Okay.” I laugh. “You got me, Kylie. Now, be serious and drop the act.”
“Not wanting you to die isn’t an ‘act,’ Autumn.” She looks into my eyes. “We both have a lot more life left, and I’ve already missed out on enough of yours as it is.”
“Every person who is unlucky enough to stumble into Edward Rochester’s world—every single person—falls off the face of the planet or finds themselves in a grave.”
“You don’t really think he’s a murderer, do you?” I say the words as a balm to my nerves, unable to believe that the man who pushed my body to the pinnacle of pleasure minutes ago could inflict the worst type of pain.
“I highlighted a date called ‘Black Thursday,’ in one of his files.” She pushes aside a stack of containers and picks up a creased manila folder. Then she throws it at me.
“They had seven witnesses scheduled to testify before a grand jury, so they could press charges against him.”
“What type of charges?”
“Doesn’t matter.” Her voice is suddenly cold. “Do you want to know what happened to those witnesses?”