Total pages in book: 108
Estimated words: 100853 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 504(@200wpm)___ 403(@250wpm)___ 336(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100853 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 504(@200wpm)___ 403(@250wpm)___ 336(@300wpm)
“No,” Ford said shortly. “Postcards once a year to me and Griffen, but those ended a while ago.” Ford slipped the letter back into the envelope, followed by the picture of his mother. “He never called? Sent you a birthday present?”
“No,” I said. “Not that I—” I stopped, tucking my fingertips into my armpits, watching my breath bloom in icy clouds. God, it was fucking cold in here. “I don’t know,” I realized, speaking aloud. “My mother…”
I shook my head, trying to drive off the memory of her talking about my father. It didn’t happen often, but the venom, the bitterness, tainted every memory of those conversations.
“She hated him,” I said softly. “And I think she hated me. She said I looked like him, acted like him. She never forgave him for leaving. She said she never heard from him again, but…” I gave a helpless shrug, wrapping my arms tighter around myself, too cold to let my body heat escape.
“I can’t believe the heat is out again,” Ford muttered.
I shook my head. I had bigger problems than frozen toes and fingers. “But maybe he did,” I whispered. “I wouldn’t have put it past her to lie about it. Maybe he sent me postcards.” Hearing the wistfulness in my own voice, I sighed heavily. “This whole thing is stupid. It’s a stupid wild goose chase. Nobody here knows anything about Sarah or my father.”
“I’m taking these,” Ford said abruptly, turning for the door.
“You can’t!” I said sharply, moving toward him. “Those are mine. They were my father’s! You can’t—”
Chapter Sixteen
PAIGE
Icut off as Ford yanked on the handle of my door. He rattled the knob back and forth, twisting and pulling. He was strong—I knew firsthand how strong—but the door didn’t budge. The knob turned under his hand, but it was as if a deadbolt had been flipped, though there was none.
“What the fuck?” Ford muttered. He pounded at the door, the sound echoing back at us, oddly muffled.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, not getting it. “Is it stuck?”
“I don’t know,” he said. “There’s no give.”
I plucked the manila envelope from his hand and set it on the table by the door. Wrapping my fingers around the icy crystal knob, I turned and pulled. The knob turned easily, the latch clicking as it pulled back, but the door didn’t budge. I yanked harder. Nothing.
“It’s kind of a problem, because it’s fucking cold in here,” Ford said, frustration tightening his voice. “Really cold.”
“The heat must be out,” I said, pulling again at the door.
“Clearly,” he said, “but I can see my breath in here, Paige.” He turned to look out the window into the dark night beyond. “It’s cold outside—as cold as it’s been all year—but Heartstone is built too well for it to be as cold inside as it is out there.”
He had a point, but still… “It’s windy,” I said. “Maybe—”
Ford shook his head, dismissing that explanation, and pulled his phone out of his pocket. “What the fuck?” he said sharply, scowling down at the screen.
Rather than asking to see his phone, I pulled out my own and saw SOS where there should have been at least two bars. We never had SOS in the house. I pulled up the Wi-Fi and tried to connect. I could see the network, but I couldn’t get on it.
“Fuck,” Ford muttered, staring out the window. “It’s too soon, and he couldn’t have gotten anyone in the Manor.”
“What are you talking about?” I lifted my fist to pound on the door. As when Ford had hit it, the sound was oddly muffled.
“Haywood,” Ford said, now looking at his phone. He held down a button on the side as the screen went black. “He as good as admitted there’d be more coming after me, but he couldn’t have found someone new so fast, and he’d never get anyone in the Manor.”
That distracted me from the door. I’d picked up enough of what was going on that I wasn’t surprised Cole Haywood would send another killer after Ford. But someone who could get into Heartstone? “No one is getting past Hawk and his team,” I said, pounding on the door again. “It’s just really cold and the heat is out.”
Ford looked down at his phone; the screen lit again. “Fuck. Still SOS.” He shoved his phone in his back pocket. “This is more than the heat being out, Paige.”
I shook my head. What more could it be? “It’s been really cold all day. Maybe the heat went out earlier and the room chilled, but you were distracted when you came in, so you didn’t notice.”
I hadn’t picked up on it at first, more focused on Ford and the picture in his hand than the icy temperature in my room. I trembled violently with cold. Crossing to grab the throw blanket at the end of my bed, I wrapped it around myself. It didn’t help much, considering the blanket felt as cold as the air in the room.