Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 104305 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 522(@200wpm)___ 417(@250wpm)___ 348(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104305 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 522(@200wpm)___ 417(@250wpm)___ 348(@300wpm)
At least I didn’t. I hadn’t taken a poll with the rest of the town’s residents, but I could safely say I spoke for them, too.
Chase’s gaze sliced over to the cabin, then back to me. “Coleman died in the cabin?”
“Unfortunately. I was here with the police when they found him. I guess the listing agent didn’t tell you.” Not that they were obligated to disclose that information.
“No foul play, right?”
I could see his wheels turning as he considered what I just told him. He wrote crime thrillers, so of course someone dying from anything other than natural causes would catch his interest. As it would mine.
“No. It was a combination of old age and bad health. He lost his wife years earlier and I think he came up here to spend the last of his days in his favorite spot. Who could blame him since it’s beautiful up here.”
Chase turned to face the lake, giving me his back. I could barely hear his murmured, “Yeah.”
Not only was the view up at the Coleman cabin beautiful, so was the naked-from-the-waist-up man before me. He was working on sculpting his body into a work of art.
I could appreciate art like that. Like him. Even if he was straight as an arrow.
“Divorce can be almost as hard to deal with as death, since you’re losing someone you love, the person who was supposed to be your partner in life.”
Why was I pushing him? Why did I feel the need to get him to open up to me? Why did I want to take on a challenge that I knew would be no better than banging my head against a wall?
Was it because we were fellow authors and that alone should create a bond or spark a friendship between us?
Or was it because I finally found someone to discuss the trials and tribulations of being a full-time author? Someone who would understand my way of life? Who understood my passion?
“Not divorced.”
Those two words were a small nugget of info I was surprised he gave me. No, not surprised, floored. It made me optimistic that I might be making some headway.
“I’m a widower.”
Fuck. “I’m sorry about your wife.”
With his back still turned toward me and the flyer from The Next Page crushed within his fingers, Chase only nodded.
I counted the heartbeats pounding in my ears as I waited to see if he’d say anything else. To expand on the bomb he just dropped.
When he finally turned back around to face me, his expression was once again as blank as a fresh page in one of my many spiral notebooks. “Are you done?”
“I—”
“With what you came up here to do?”
“Yes, I—”
“You know how to get back, then.”
I was being dismissed.
I jerked my chin toward the flyer he was choking in his fist. “Think about it. You’re welcome to do some readings of your own books.”
His face still gave me nothing when he said, “That’s not going to happen.” Then he turned on his heels and headed toward the cabin.
I stood and watched his long strides increase the distance between us in record time. Without a glance back at me, he climbed the porch steps, entered the cabin and shut the door.
Effectively shutting me out.
Message received loud and clear.
But since he didn’t rip the flyer up in front of me, I hoped I at least planted a seed. Now it was on him to help that seed grow into an olive branch. Or kill it with a lack of caring.
I’d be a fool to think he liked olives.
CHAPTER 5
Rett
Chase Jones ended up being a more common name than I expected. Every time I took a break from writing or helping a customer, I would dig through pages of pages of results from my online search.
Of the closed-off man.
Of the author.
Of the widower.
While I had no problem finding “Author C.J. Anson,” what came up was always basic and only had to do with his writing or books. Most of it was old information from past book tours, press releases and things of that nature. I even stumbled across video clips of him signing books for his fans at scheduled events, or from when his public relations team arranged for him to go on a talk show to promote an upcoming book.
But everything I found was from years ago and nothing current.
He looked different in any and all photos and videos I found. Happier and lighter. Not dark and grumpy like a grizzly bear who went into hibernation with a thorn still stuck in its paw.
Chase had definitely gone “underground.” From the limited investigation I could do, it looked like things changed about two years ago.
Even in some of the C.J. Anson fan forums, some asked where the author was, what happened to him and when was his next book coming out. Some readers were concerned about him, while others were more demanding and extremely angry since he left them hanging for so long without a new Nick Foster case to solve.