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)
* * *
I’ve ended up in a place where the past and the present collide, where I’m haunted by the ghosts of decisions made in haste and in ignorance. There are secrets, Steve, secrets that eat away at me, secrets that are buried deep, but not deep enough.
* * *
But I’m ready to take care of everything.
* * *
The time has come.
* * *
Thanks for being my friend back then, buddy. I’ll never forget it.
* * *
Ronny
There’s no date on the note, but because it’s with Steve’s notebooks, I assume he received it sometime during the five years since his accident. Maybe there’s an envelope somewhere. I can’t bother Tom again today, but I’ll ask later.
But something nags at me.
Something familiar about it.
And then I see it.
I fucking see it.
The handwriting. The distinctive slant to the right.
It’s damned similar to the handwriting on Lindsay’s note.
A chill settles over me, more unsettling than any cold winter night could ever be. My heart pounds so loudly, I think it might burst out of my chest. My hands tremble as I compare the two letters side by side on my desk.
Lindsay’s suicide note was written by Ronny.
My mind is racing now, thoughts spiraling out of control. Why would Ronny comment on Lindsay’s memorial page if he was somehow involved in her death?
Unless…
Unless it was all part of his plan.
A sense of dread washes over me as I consider this new possibility, followed by a wave of bitterness that lingers on my tongue like bile. If Ronny hurt Lindsay…
He will fucking pay.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Angie
He’s kidding, right?
Ralph seriously thinks I’m going to fuck him in his hospital room? With Tabitha right outside? Hell, with a whole staff of nurses and orderlies outside?
It’s not as if we can lock the door.
Though that’s the last reason why I’m not going to fuck Ralph.
“You’re delusional if you think that’s happening,” I reply, crossing my arms. “I’m not whoring myself to save anyone. Certainly not to someone like you.”
Ralph grins, a sick pleasure in his eyes at my obvious disgust. “Then I guess Dr. Lansing had better start preparing for prison. You might want to get him a butt plug—a big one—unless you’re already working his back door, like I said.”
God, he’s sick. The threat in his words is as tangible as the coldness in his voice. A chill curls at the back of my neck, but I stay steady. I refuse to let Ralph see that he’s getting to me.
“Last chance, Simpson,” he taunts, his gaze lingering on me with disgusting lust.
I grab the end of his hospital bed, fighting the urge to shake him until he sees sense. “You’re seriously underestimating Jason if you think he can’t handle a little jail time.”
A low chuckle escapes Ralph’s lips as he adjusts himself in his bed. “You underestimate me if you think I’m doing this for fun. We both have something at stake here.”
“Oh, really?” I sneer. “And what could you possibly lose?”
“More than you can imagine,” he replies.
“Try me,” I say, curiosity briefly overtaking my anger.
“Nothing that concerns you directly,” he says. “Let’s just say it involves a certain naïveté of yours about the true character of your beloved Jason.”
I huff at that. “You’ve already done your worst to taint my opinion of him, and it hasn’t worked. So either spit it out or shut up, Ralph.”
His mouth twists into a smirk. He seems to be measuring, calculating. Seeing how far he can push me before I break.
“I suppose there’s no harm in telling you,” he finally says. “After all, it won’t change the outcome of things.”
“What are you talking about?” I demand, the suspense gnawing at my nerves.
He leans back against his pillows, seemingly gathering his strength. His eyes lose focus for a moment before snapping back to me.
“Jason,” he begins, his voice barely a whisper, “isn’t who you think he is.”
I feel my eyebrows pull together in confusion. “What are you talking about?”
“He has a past,” Ralph continues. “A dark past. One that he’s kept hidden from everyone…including you.”
“I don’t believe you.”
Ralph chuckles weakly. “You don’t have to believe me, Simpson. It’s the truth.”
The skepticism must be evident on my face, because he sighs and shakes his head as if disappointed in my ignorance.
“You know what they say. The truth always comes out. Eventually, you’re going to find out everything about your precious Jason.” He burns his gaze into me. “And when you do, I hope you’re ready for it.”
A knot of dread begins to form in my stomach, but I refuse to let it show on my face. “So what? Everyone has a past. Including you.”
He grins, a ghastly sight with his swollen face. “But not everyone’s past is as bloody as Jason’s.”
“Bloody?” I repeat, my mind spinning with unvoiced questions.
“Very bloody,” he confirms. “Jason has killed before, Angie.”