Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 62480 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 312(@200wpm)___ 250(@250wpm)___ 208(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 62480 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 312(@200wpm)___ 250(@250wpm)___ 208(@300wpm)
“He was sous chef at a restaurant in West Hollywood with a Michelin star,” continues Hana. “Talk about goals.”
I nod. “He said he needed to slow down.”
“Vermont is certainly a good place to do that,” says Muriel.
“So, you have been talking to him.” Hana sizes me up in the rearview mirror. “And you didn’t say a word. How many other secrets do you have hidden?”
I just laugh.
“This is good news,” says Muriel. “You could do with more people in your life.”
“You’re going to get one of your online contacts to search his credit rating and criminal history, aren’t you?” I ask, already knowing the answer.
“No,” says Hana archly. “That would be a massive invasion of his privacy.”
“Of course we are. You can never be too careful.” Muriel peruses the screen. “I didn’t realize you were back on social media, Sidney.”
“I am not really,” I say. “It’s a locked account and I didn’t use my full name.”
“But still…you’re putting yourself out there. Albeit in a limited fashion.”
“It was my therapist’s idea. To embrace some of the activities other people my age are doing.”
“You’re so cute when you’re being all normal,” says Hana with a smile.
“Thank you. I used to like taking photos. It’s been good getting back to that.” I smile. Then I stop smiling. “He asked me what I do for fun.”
“Who?” Muriel turns my way. “Noah?”
I nod.
Hana’s gaze meets mine in the rearview mirror. “And what did you say?”
“I didn’t know what to say,” I admit dismally.
Muriel half turns in her seat and shares a pointed look with Hana. There’s a small chance I don’t like change. Or admitting that my life sort of sucks. But here we are.
“You should ask him if he’d like to be your new hobby,” says Hana.
I just smile.
“Or you could ask him out?” Muriel nudges me with her elbow. “It’s the sort of thing normal people do sometimes.”
“Sidney, we haven’t gone out in ages,” says Hana. “I’ve been so busy with school. What’ve you been doing with yourself outside of this and work?”
“Well…I read and stuff.”
The two exchange another look.
“I like my own company,” I say. “Being by myself isn’t so bad. For instance, I enjoy disassociating and taking long walks.”
“Who doesn’t?” Hana shrugs. “We should all regularly make space in our lives to be antisocial. But don’t you get lonely sometimes?”
I don’t know how to answer that question. Nor do I want to.
“It’s been almost ten years.” Muriel sighs. “I know you don’t want to hear it, but there’s a chance we may never find their bodies.”
My fingers tighten on the steering wheel. “We have to. Then everyone will know exactly what he did and how many people he hurt. Their families will finally have closure.”
No one speaks.
“If either of you want to stop, I would understand.”
Muriel shakes her head. “No.”
“Same,” says Hana. “But you getting a hobby is a good idea. Having something in your life other than death and taxes.”
“I vote for you knocking boots with your neighbor,” suggests Muriel.
Hana laughs.
It’s not a bad idea. Not the having-sex-with-Noah part. The bit about me getting a hobby. Bringing the missing women home is my mission, but maybe there’s room for more. Maybe. “What if he’s only being nice to me because he doesn’t know who I am?”
“He might know and not care,” says Hana.
“Or he might know and be waiting to form his own opinion.” Muriel’s gaze stays on the screen. “It makes sense to try and protect yourself after everything that’s happened. But you don’t want to overdo it.”
I am not convinced.
Which is when Muriel stabs at the screen with a finger while asking, “What does this button do?”
“You followed me on social media,” says Noah with a smile.
“And you followed me back.” There’s no way I’m telling him Muriel was responsible. How embarrassing. “On your way to work?”
It’s midmorning Wednesday and we’re standing in my driveway. He’s dressed in a plain white tee, black pants, and matching Birkenstock leather clogs. Which I guess is what chefs wear. I am wearing my old blue jeans, a boxy tee, and a baseball cap. I used to like sundresses and crop tops and such. But now it’s all about boring, safe, nondescript clothing to blend with the masses. Not standing too tall in case someone sees me as a threat. Things like that. People still often recognize me. They associate me with the fear and horror they felt back then when more women than normal were disappearing. So long as I avoid eye contact and keep moving everything is usually fine.
“Yeah.” He nods to the bags in the back of the small Subaru SUV. “Can I help with those?”
My first instinct is to say no. A good indicator it’s the wrong thing to do. I don’t want to hide when it comes to him. Maybe Hana and Muriel are right about it being time for my world to get a bit bigger. “Sure.”