Total pages in book: 29
Estimated words: 30055 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 150(@200wpm)___ 120(@250wpm)___ 100(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 30055 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 150(@200wpm)___ 120(@250wpm)___ 100(@300wpm)
“I’d rather answer the other question.” I roll my eyes.
“I’m listening.”
“Okay.” I pause. “Once I tell you, I need you to hang up the phone and block my number.”
“It’s already blocked, Jameson.”
“No, it’s not,” I say. “You block it and then unblock it every few days because you think I’ll magically turn into who you want me to be, but the truth is…I’m worse. So, once I tell you this, you can move on with Cole.”
“You mean that?”
“No, but I’m in a lose-lose situation for the first time in my life, so—” A sharp ache tears through my chest, begging me to change my mind, but I can’t. “Promise me you’ll hang up once I tell you and never speak to me again.”
“Okay.” Her voice is soft. “I promise.”
MOTIVE (N.):
THE UNDERLYING REASON, CAUSE, OR PURPOSE THAT DRIVES A PERSON TO ACT OR COMMIT A CRIME.
JAMESON
Twenty-Eight Years Ago
Tom Raider was the neighborhood candyman.
With his long, wild hair and tendency to wear bright shirts and pajama pants, most people outside Graham Lane would never guess that he was the CFO at a major company.
As an executive at Planet Sweets, he always brought home tubs full of snacks and set them out on his porch for the neighborhood kids to grab as we pleased.
Since his house was right next door to ours, I always got first dibs on the newest things.
Well, minus the ice cream samples.
I wrote him a letter every week, trying to convince him to put his deep freezer outside so I wouldn’t have to wait for him to be home, but he hadn’t been convinced.
Yet.
On one random Sunday morning, I spotted my least favorite neighbor—Cindy Kline—knocking on his door.
“Mr. Raider!” she called out. “Do you have those Pluto Ice Creams you promised?”
“They’re in the basement!” he called back. “You can climb down if you like.”
Since I was currently grounded for stealing from a bookstore, I could only watch from my window and wait for her to emerge with whatever “Pluto Ice Cream” was.
Then again…
I pushed up my window as she climbed into the basement.
I figured I could talk her into giving me one in exchange for not snitching on her.
She’s supposed to be grounded, too.
I waited five minutes, but she never came back out.
Five more passed, and all I could think about was how many ice creams she was devouring without me.
Too impatient to wait, I rushed across the yard and climbed through the basement window, too.
She wasn’t there, though.
Neither was Mr. Raider.
Where the hell is his freezer?
It wasn’t in its usual place anymore.
I walked up the basement stairs that led into his house, hoping to find Cindy and Mr. Raider in the kitchen.
Nothing.
The only things in there were half-opened boxes of chocolates I’d already tasted.
I want that Space Bar.
I was about to call out for Cindy, but the sound of whimpering stopped me.
Right across from me, through the crack of his bedroom door, I saw Mr. Raider pressing the ice cream bar against Cindy’s lips.
“Next time, you’ll lick it softer for me, okay?” he said. “You’re getting better, but I like it gentle, okay?”
“Okay.” She looked down.
“Don’t cry. It’s not your fault.” He kissed her forehead. “This is just our little secret.”
Tears rolled down her cheeks as she nodded.
“Now, let’s fill an entire box with ice cream and candy for your family,” he said. “You can take as much as you like.”
She nodded once more, and he wiped away her final tears with his fingertips.
I slipped into his bathroom before he could see me, hiding there while he led her into the kitchen.
With my heart racing a mile a minute, I tried to convince myself that whatever I had just witnessed wasn’t real.
I waited until he walked her out before returning to the basement.
Then I rushed across the yard and back to my room, immediately shutting the blinds.
It had to be something else I saw.
It’s not THAT.
Three days later, I watched from my window as my ex-best friend Kyle requested a box of ice cream.
Mr. Raider gave it to him within seconds.
Didn’t try to invite him inside.
I watched several other kids do the same, and I was almost ready to erase the incident with Cindy from my mind forever.
Then my neighbor Hannah disappeared into his basement.
She stayed down there even longer than Cindy had.
When she finally emerged, she looked far sadder than when she went in, and I vowed to never take another piece of candy from that man again.
It took me eight weeks to realize that Mr. Raider had a pattern.
Girl, girl, boy, girl, girl…
He always played his wicked game on the last Friday and Sunday of the month, the days his wife worked double shifts at the hospital.
He never invited the same kid inside twice.
And the ones he’d already crossed the line with?
He went out of his way to personally deliver treats to their houses and do nice things for their parents. It was as if he got a thrill out of making them question what was really happening, making them second-guess telling on him and ruining his pristine reputation.