Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 75015 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 375(@200wpm)___ 300(@250wpm)___ 250(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75015 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 375(@200wpm)___ 300(@250wpm)___ 250(@300wpm)
“Wait—yesterday?” I mulled the information over. “That’s . . . random.”
“She wouldn’t book a trip abroad and not tell me. Sage Hill or whatever is one thing. But Thailand?”
“Yeah.” Now my worries were increasing.
First the broken necklace. Then the hooded stranger she met at the diner. Now a booked trip thousands of miles away from home? Eve would’ve bragged about a trip like that. If not to us, then to her followers.
Zoey let out a defeated breath. “Something happened to her, Rose. I can feel it in my gut. I hate to even consider this, but what if she went hiking and she’s hurt? Or she’s been kidnapped?”
I frowned. “Why would anyone want to kidnap her?”
“Well, she used to tell me about this fan she had online. She was a superfan, you know. Eventually it got to a point where she started showing up at Eve’s gym and then to her chiropractic appointments the same day. She followed Eve in her car once and that’s when Eve filed a restraining order.”
“Wait . . .” I raised a hand and closed my eyes for a second. “When was this?”
“Like, last year sometime, I think.”
Back when we were still somewhat friends. “Why was I never informed about this?”
“It was around the time you were in New York. Remember you went for like a month in July? Around then, I think. It slipped my mind, I guess. As for Eve, well . . . there’s a lot she didn’t tell you. Probably because she was worried you’d judge her.”
I scoffed. “I don’t judge people.”
“You criticized her all the time, Rose.”
“Polite criticism and judging are two very different things. I only did it because I wanted her to take care of herself and stop doing dumb shit all the time. I criticized sometimes because I cared.”
“I guess.” Zoey paused. “It does get frustrating looking after her. I never understood why she couldn’t just be normal, you know? Live a regular life. Focus on herself. Not live a life that alters everyone else’s.”
Because your sister is self-centered, attention-seeking, and obnoxious, I wanted to say.
“Anyway, I’ll keep digging around, see what I can find,” Zoey went on.
“Okay.”
When she hung up, something she said hit me again. Eve did like to go hiking. Perhaps she’d taken a trail leading to the mountains and was hurt. The problem, though, was that I hated hiking. I grumpily went to my bag, plucking out a pair of leggings and a long-sleeved shirt. After grabbing my phone and gun from my purse, I left the cottage and took the trail to the right of the house.
There was an easy footpath to follow. According to the welcome binder, this particular trail led to a four-mile hike that gave you the sweetest view of the mountains. The air was cooler now and I was swallowed in mist. The smell of rain was powerful. A downpour was on the way. The deeper I walked into the forest, the stronger the scent of wet bark and leaves became.
“Really got me out here hiking,” I grumbled, swinging my arms faster, my gun knocking against my hip.
A fork in the path appeared. One trail led to the lake. I could see the water in the distance. Another led deeper into the forest. The middle carried on, but there was a bend farther along, like it wrapped around to the other side of Aquilla Lake. I decided to check the path leading to the water. Other than a bench built into the ground facing the lake, an old grill full of ash, and several geese, nothing was there.
I returned to the path, deciding to move forward and take the trail that wrapped around the lake. Thunder rumbled in the sky now. Leaves rustled and tree branches groaned from the light breeze. I swung my gaze to the right, focusing on the empty spaces between the tree trunks. It was so quiet out here, not even the birds tweeted. Maybe they were hiding from the oncoming storm. The rustling of leaves grew louder. Then again, maybe it wasn’t the leaves.
Footsteps.
I hitched a breath, spinning around and facing a vacant path. Tree branches hovered inches above, the dirt stamped with my own tracks. No one was there. My fingers twitched for my gun anyway. I paused, letting my heart settle while breathing in deep.
I wasn’t some extreme gun lover. In fact, I hated them . . . until I was attacked one night after work. I’d left late and a man was standing in the lobby. He was in front of the desk with his back to me. I thought he was an employee or our hired security. As it turned out, he was never meant to be in there. He was a squatter. The man heard me coming and turned around, ripped my purse out of my hands, then shoved me to the floor. A woman appeared right next to him and punched me square in the face before kicking me in the ribs. They stole everything of value I had on me.