Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 76717 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76717 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
“San Francisco,” I repeat, filing that information away.
“Yes.” She pauses again. “But it’s been years. I’m not sure if he’s still there.”
“It’s a start,” I say. “Thank you, Rebecca.”
“Sure.” Her voice cracks. “God, again, I’m so sorry to hear about Lindsay. She was so pretty and smart. Of course I spent a few years hating her for abandoning me and never reaching out.”
“She had her reasons.”
“Ronny?”
“Yeah. He wouldn’t leave her alone. She had a restraining order and everything, but he continued stalking her, so she and her parents moved to Colorado after graduation. She went to college here, and that’s where she and I met.”
“Wow,” Rebecca murmurs, sounding stunned. “I had no idea. She always seemed so strong, so fearless.”
“She was,” I say. “But everyone has their vulnerabilities. She couldn’t take it anymore. She wanted to live her life.”
Live her life. The irony of my words hits me like a ton of bricks.
Lindsay should be alive, damn it.
We stay silent for a moment longer before she breaks it. “I hate to bring up something horrible for you, but what happened to Lindsay? Was she sick?”
“No,” I say. “She… Well, I think she may have been murdered.”
I hear a clunk on the other line. Sounds like Rebecca dropped her phone.
In a second she’s back. “You can’t be serious.”
I draw in a breath, steel myself for what I have to say. “It’s a long story. She and I… We lost our daughter three years ago in an accident. She couldn’t cope, and she… She took her own life. At least that’s what we all initially thought. But recently I’ve come to suspect that foul play may have been involved.”
Another gasp.
Fuck.
I’ve said more than I should have.
“Do you know anyone who might have wanted to harm Lindsay?” I ask.
“God, no. Everyone loved her. Especially Ronny.”
I scratch the side of my head. “Yet he disappeared.”
“Yeah. Everyone just assumed he followed Lindsay wherever she went.”
“He didn’t,” I say. “When Lindsay and I met, he was nowhere around.”
“What did she say about him?”
“Just that she thought he was her first love, but he turned into a creepy stalker.”
“Yeah, sounds like Ronny.” She sighs.
“Who told you he may have gone to San Francisco?”
“God, I don’t remember. That was years ago.” She sighs. “Maybe Ralph Parker?”
The name Ralph gives me a nudge. “Who’s Ralph Parker?”
“He was the student body president. He kept tabs on everyone after graduation. He still puts together all our reunions. Dude needs to get a life.”
“Ralph Parker…”
“Yeah. You want his number?”
“Sure. Thanks.”
She rattles off the digits as I program them into my phone.
“Thanks again, Rebecca. I’ll let you know if I find anything else. I’m truly grateful, and I’m sorry for the bad news.”
“Good luck, Jason,” she says softly, her voice filled with sympathy.
With that, we end the call, and I stare blankly at the phone. My mind is turning over this new information, but it provides no immediate solution—just more questions.
Ralph Parker. San Francisco. Ronny Burgundy. They’re all pieces of a puzzle that don’t quite fit together.
I can’t shake the feeling that there’s more to this than meets the eye. The idea that Lindsay was killed—murdered—turns my stomach. Plus…why didn’t she ever reach out to Rebecca or anyone else from her past? Was Ronny Burgundy truly that much of a threat?
I dial Ralph Parker’s number, my thoughts whirling as the phone rings and rings. His voicemail comes on the line.
“Ralph here. Sorry I’m unavailable. You know what to do.”
“Hello, Ralph, my name is Jason Lansing. I got your number from Rebecca Tate, who you went to high school with. I was hoping to get some information about some other classmates of yours, Lindsay Davis and Ronny Burgundy. Please give me a call back when you can.”
With that, I end the call and lean back in my chair, closing my eyes and taking a deep breath. So many questions, so many uncertainties.
Even with so much on my mind, my thoughts stray back to Angie sleeping soundly in her bed. The woman who knows about my past, about Lindsay and the torturous guilt that keeps me up at night. The woman who loves me for who I am now, flaws and all.
As much as I wish to protect her from this storm raging within me, she deserves to know the truth. She deserves to understand why I left her bed early this morning.
With another sigh, I grab my jacket and keys and head to her place. The sun is just starting to rise, casting long shadows that creep across the deserted streets. It’s too early for most people to be awake, but I’ve always been an early riser. Even more so now, with the weight of this unsolved mystery bearing down on me. I walk the few steps to Angie’s door and knock.
Her door swings open a few moments later. She stands in a loose sweater and leggings, her dark hair spilling down her back in waves. It’s still slightly damp from the shower she must have just taken.