Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 102620 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 513(@200wpm)___ 410(@250wpm)___ 342(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102620 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 513(@200wpm)___ 410(@250wpm)___ 342(@300wpm)
“I can’t give you that, but what I can do is call him and see if he’ll come down and speak to you.”
“I’ll take anything,” I say hopefully. “Anything he can give me I’ll take.”
“Okay, give me a couple of minutes.” He gets up, grabbing the radio and walking out of the room. I pick up the newspaper article he left on his desk, folding it and putting it in my purse. I put my hands on my knees, moving my feet up and down nervously as I wait for him.
He comes back and looks down at the floor, and my heart sinks. “I’m sorry,” he says to me. I let out a sigh and a tear escapes the corner of my eye, and I quickly wipe it away. “He’s gotten to the age where he’s extremely grumpy.” He tries not to laugh, and I can see pity in his eyes.
I get up, not willing to take pity from anyone. “Thank you for trying.” I exhale. “I’ll get out of your hair.” I turn to walk away but stop. “Can I leave you my name and number if he changes his mind? Or if you talk to any of the other men who were on duty that night, and they don’t mind talking to me, they can always get in touch with me.”
“Of course,” he agrees, turning and handing me a pen and paper. I lean down, writing my contact information before turning and handing it back to him. “I’ll see what I can do.”
“Thank you, Hudson,” I say softly before leaving and walking out of the office and back to the front door. Stepping out into the sunlight, I try not to let the setback bother me as I walk over to the bakery to grab something to eat. I sit at the table with my sandwich, and the phone rings with an unknown number.
“Hello.” I put the phone to my ear.
“Is this Sierra?” the caller asks.
“This is she,” I confirm, sitting up.
“I heard you have some questions for me.” My heart speeds up, and it finally clicks that this is the fire chief.
“I do.” I try to actually calm and not act like I’m freaking the fuck out, but internally I’m freaking the fuck out. “I won’t take up much of your time.”
“Good,” he says, “here is my address.” He gives me his address, and I text it to myself. “Come before dinner.”
“I’m at the bakery now. I can be there as soon as I leave here.”
“Ms. Maddie’s bakery?” he asks.
“Yes.”
“Good, bring me some donuts.” I try not to smile at his request.
“Is there any kind that you want in particular?” I ask him and he hangs up the phone on me. “So one of each.” I take a deep breath in and slowly let it out. “Let’s get some answers.”
Chapter 13
Sierra
“You have reached your destination,” the voice says, “your destination is on the right.” I park the car by the curb and look at the little white house with dark windows. Two weeping willow trees protect it from the sun, rain, and everything from outside. A United States flag flies from the side of the open front door, but a screen door shuts out everything. “Here we go.” I pep myself up as I lean over to grab the box of donuts and my phone.
I shut my car door, walking around the car and stepping onto the sidewalk, looking right and left as I make my way up the pathway to the door. Stepping up one step, I see there are two rocking chairs out here, moving back and forth softly in the wind. I look for a doorbell when I finally get to the screen door. Seeing none, I lift my hand and knock softly on the wooden side. My heart pounds fast and hard in my chest as I step back and nervously wait for him to come to the door.
“I’m coming,” the voice snaps as I hear footsteps approaching me. I see him fill the doorway. He semi-glares at me, then his eyes go from me to the box of donuts in my hands, and his look softens just a touch. “Hmm,” he says, “you listened.”
I don’t mean to but with all the nervousness I have in me, I giggle a little bit. “Of course,” I respond as he pushes open the screen door so I have to take an extra step back. “I got one of everything,” I tell him, extending the box to him, but I see he is holding a cane with one hand and the door with the other. “I’ll carry it in for you.”
“Don’t need you to do no such thing,” he grumbles, lifting his arm with the cane and reaching for the box. “Come in.” He turns, and I must step in quickly before the screen door slams shut.