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)
“Okay, yeah. That’s fine.” It wasn’t really. Something told me this Victor guy was the same person driving the Aston Martin and I needed to know who he was, what he looked like, and when he last spoke to Eve.
“I’ll text you as soon as I have something.”
“Thanks, Nico.”
He hung up and I sifted through more videos. None of them showed the Aston Martin again. Neither did any of her photos. Giving up, I moved away from the laptop and searched through the nightstands. Pills. THC carts. Cough drops. Earrings. Sinus relief spray.
I shuffled through the closet but had no luck there. She kept her closet tidy and even color coded her clothes. I lowered to a squat to check her shoe boxes, hoping to find anything that might give me a clue as to where she might be or what she was doing.
Nothing.
With a huff, I made my way back to the laptop, slumping down in the chair and rubbing my forehead. I was getting a headache from all this thinking and wondering. I stared at the screen before sitting up again and clicking through the files. I checked her apps next. There was a black app I hadn’t seen before with an icon of a box with three dots above it called ThoughtBox.
I gave it a click and it opened to the main page. The words WHAT’S ON YOUR MIND, EVE? were written across the top of the page. Below that were separated boxes, all with different dates. The latest was from September 2nd.
A sync button was at the top and I gave it a click. More boxes appeared in seconds.
September 3rd.
September 4th.
All dates when Eve was in Sage Hill.
My heart sped up a notch as I gave the most recent date a click and several paragraphs appeared.
“Holy shit,” I breathed as I scrolled through one entry after another.
I’d found Eve’s digital journal.
Eve Castillo journal entry
It feels like something bad is going to happen. I can’t shake it. I can’t tell if it’ll happen to me or someone else. I can’t sleep so I’m currently watching TV with a fire going in the lake house.
My stomach has been hurting all day. I think Alex and Damian were too rough. I should rest but I can’t. Like I said, something bad feels like it’s going to happen. Could it be guilt? Maybe I should go home. Perhaps I need to reconsider everything and focus on my priorities. So what if Victor doesn’t want me? I’ll be fine.
I never should’ve come here.
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
I didn’t think things through when leaving Eve’s house. A part of me screamed to calm down, go back home, and process my thoughts before acting, but I couldn’t. Instead, I jumped behind the wheel of my car and drove to Sage Hill. Again. I was an idiot, I know. But the adrenaline coursing through me was hard to control.
Along the way, I gave Kennedy a call. She didn’t answer the first time but did get around to it on my second try.
“Kennedy Windsor,” she answered.
“Hi, Kennedy. It’s Rose. I—I think I found something, about Eve. I don’t think she felt safe in the cottage and there’s some guy she talks about a lot named Victor, but I have no idea who he is. I don’t think I’ve met him. There are also other things I saw that might help us figure out what happened to her.”
“Okay, okay. Slow down,” Kennedy insisted. “What exactly did you find?”
“I found recent journal entries on her laptop, but there’s proof in here that she was with Alex and Damian while staying at the cottage. She talks about stuff they did.”
“Good Lord.” Kennedy sighed. “Alright. Where are you?”
“I’m on the way to Sage Hill. I should be there within the next hour.”
“Right. Well, you can’t come to the sheriff’s office. Reed is here,” she said in a lower voice. “I’ll send you my address. You can meet me at my place. My shift is almost over.”
“Okay.”
“You called at a good time,” she added. “My friend got back to me, and I also received a call from the DA. I told her about Eve and what we suspect. It has piqued her curiosity and she wants more details. The more proof we have, the better our chances are of bringing them in for questioning.”
“Okay, good.” Questioning wasn’t enough, but it was a start. Perhaps they’d slip or more proof would be revealed. Who knows, maybe there would even be a confession.
“Drive carefully,” Kennedy said before ending the call.
Once she’d sent her address, I tapped it, and my phone provided me another route.
Kennedy Windsor lived in an apartment on the second floor in the heart of town. The parking lot was massive but hardly filled with cars. The complex was well kept. I took the stairs up and gave her door a knock.