Total pages in book: 168
Estimated words: 159420 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 797(@200wpm)___ 638(@250wpm)___ 531(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 159420 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 797(@200wpm)___ 638(@250wpm)___ 531(@300wpm)
So real that the cop at the front desk, an officer named Grant not much older than me I suppose, knows everything about me. He knows my name is Peyton Turner and that I go to Montana State University. He knows who my father and my brother are and all the things they can do to him and his fellow officers if I just say the word, so they better do what I want them to do. He also knows I live with a roommate and as of five days ago, she went missing.
Missing.
My best friend, the only person I have in this whole wide world, has gone missing and no one will do a thing about it.
First, it was the fact that it hadn’t been seventy-two hours since I last saw her. So they wouldn’t consider it a missing person’s case. Because God forbid they do their fucking jobs. And then, it was about her writing letters to a prison inmate for the last six months. It doesn’t matter to them that, on his insistence, she went to see him after he was released on parole. Or that a day after seeing him, she never came home. I mean, it’s all there, isn’t it? It’s obvious what happened here. An innocent college girl goes to meet a parolee, a goddamn convicted criminal, and never comes home. It means that said criminal is responsible for her disappearance. It means that he’d been lying to her all along, scamming her, and now he’s taken her away. It means that my best friend has been kidnapped, and no one will believe me.
Because according to the cops, she might have decided to leave with him of her own volition. It’s not unheard of, they say. Girls do this all the time. They often disappear with men they’re in love with. They go away, leave everything behind for one reason or another. It’s crazy, they admit. Why leave without telling anyone; why make your loved ones worry? But apparently, not everyone thinks of these things, and from the looks of it, Reverie is one of those people. Never mind that she’s the most responsible girl to ever exist; she never misses a single class without first emailing the professor to give them a heads-up about it; she texts me even if she pops over to the deli down the street. She’s the most careful, the most cautious, the most responsible person in this entire city, and everyone here is trying to convince me otherwise. They want me to accept the fact that she may never be found because she doesn’t want to be found. Because she’s not missing; she ran away.
Which is why I’m here—third time in five days—waiting for the detective in charge of Reverie’s case to show up. Officer Grant at the front desk tried to send me away, said Detective Pearson is out on another case and that if they get any updates, they’ll give me a call. But I’m not leaving this hellhole until I talk to him and demand he take me seriously and find my friend. As if on cue, Detective Pearson strolls into the station and Officer Grant jumps up from his seat. I do, too, and before he can say anything to Pearson, I call out, “Detective Pearson, do you have a second?”
He’s probably in his mid-thirties or so and sports a bushy mustache and a Stetson. Apparently, in addition to being a cop, he also has a ranch at the outskirts of the city that he runs part-time; an intel I got from overhearing one of the cops. It also means I’ve hated him since the moment he walked into the interrogation room five days ago to go over the statement I gave to Officer Grant. I’ve never trusted cowboys, and the way he’s been dismissive of me and my concerns, I was right to consider them the bullheaded pricks they all are. I’m not happy to be in his presence, and I guess the feeling is mutual. Because as soon as he turns around and sees me charging toward him, he frowns in displeasure.
I come to a stop in front of him and raise my chin. “I’d like to have a word with you about my friend’s case.”
“I’ve tried to make her understand the protocol, sir; that if we had any updates, we’d give her a call,” Officer Grant chimes in from the side. “But she—”
“She,” I say, cutting him off and shooting him a glare, “is not going anywhere until she gets to talk to the detective in charge of a sensitive case.” I snap my gaze over to Detective Pearson. “A girl is missing. Missing. She could be halfway across the state.… She could be halfway across this country by now, and we’re standing here talking about protocol? You know what this is, don’t you? Police negligence. You’re ignoring the concerns of a citizen you swore to protect on account of your own biases. That’s wrong on all levels. How do you think my father is going to feel if he finds out you’re not taking his daughter seriously?”