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)
“This is a mess, Rose.” Herbert’s voice pulled me back to the present. “You can’t possibly think something happened to Eve. I swear she’s always stressing you out.”
“I don’t know.” I bit my bottom lip. “I looked through her camera. She took pictures. One showed her with Lincoln.”
“The guy who gave her about five black eyes? Is she fucking crazy?”
“If anyone is behind it, it’s probably him. That’s why I need Nico. I need to know where Lincoln is now. I know he does all our searching stuff, but he can do . . . other stuff too.”
“Yeah, but he hasn’t done that other stuff in a while,” Herbert countered.
“I need him for this.”
He sighed. “Okay. I guess. If I hear from him before you do, I’ll let him know. So, what are you going to do now? You don’t plan on staying there, do you? Need I remind you about your deadline? Twyla needs that article on Cowan soon. She’s been sniffing around my desk all day.”
“I know, I know. But I can’t leave until I know what’s going on.” I went to the search engine on my phone, typed something in, then started my car and drove out of the diner’s parking lot. “In the meantime, I’m going to the police station. I need to put in a missing person’s report for Eve.”
Eve Castillo journal entry
I can only write this here because if I tell anyone they’ll judge me. I went to a festival to see the fireworks uptown with Lincoln for the Fourth of July. I expected to be scared. I mean I was nervous to see him after so much time apart, but he looked great. He was dressed well. His eyes were softer. He held my hand and wrapped his arm around my shoulders. We shared a funnel cake and ate kettle corn. He smelled really good. I just wanted to curl into him and sniff forever.
That was one thing I missed most about him. His smell, especially when we had sex and he’d sweat. I’d breathe him in as he buried himself inside me and groaned in my ear. I wanted to merge with him, become one. His kindness could be a front. He’s done this before—buttered me up just to rope me back in and then punch me square in the face or grip my upper thigh so hard he left a bruise.
The sad thing is, I’m not afraid of Lincoln. Yes, he hits me. Yes, he’s abusive. But I’m not afraid. Maybe that’s why I keep going back. No one can protect and hurt me like he can.
The pain and pleasure are a powerful combination. I’m thinking about seeing him again. We’ll never get married like we’d planned, but we can have fun . . . until one of us gets bored.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Sheriff Reed’s office smelled like damp wood and stale cigarettes. It was about the size of a closet, with a wide desk crammed inside. A wide window overlooked Sage Lake, and the entire building was built on stilts, but the place had to be close to one hundred years old.
The sheriff’s office itself was dry. I’d only seen a handful of deputies. Some were seated at their desks. Others sipped coffee while reading papers. On my way back, I saw a man playing darts in what I assumed was the break room, while another had his feet propped up on the table and his eyes closed for a nap.
“We just keep running into each other, huh?” Sheriff Reed said when I was escorted to his office. There was no humor in his tone of voice. It was dryer than the desert. I really did not get good vibes from this man.
I refrained from clearing my throat as Sheriff Reed sat on the other side of the desk, studying the photo I’d given him of Eve. “And you say she’s been missing for how many days now?” he asked.
“Four, I believe.”
“And no one’s heard from her at all?”
“The last time anyone heard from her was on September fifth.”
“Strange.” He gave me that beady-eyed stare as he slid the photo across the desk. “This friend of yours. What’s her last name?”
“Castillo,” I answered as he plucked a small notepad from his shirt pocket. He picked up a pen and clicked it, letting out a deep, guttural sigh.
Good Lord! He was no better at hiding his boredom than oily Freddy. You’d think he’d be excited for some action around here.
“Castillo,” the sheriff repeated. “Two l’s or one?”
It took everything in me not to roll my eyes. “Two. I’m sorry. Do you not have a detective here? Shouldn’t they be doing this?”
The sheriff barked a laugh. “Sage Hill is a small town with a population of four thousand and forty-seven people. I am your detective, Mrs. Howard.”