Total pages in book: 139
Estimated words: 128488 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 642(@200wpm)___ 514(@250wpm)___ 428(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128488 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 642(@200wpm)___ 514(@250wpm)___ 428(@300wpm)
“The weird thing is,” he said, “the police didn’t believe Lars or Tallulah because of who they are. Their stories were easily dismissed. But we were different. We were noticed. The news showed up. Articles were written. If some sort of choosing was done, why choose two people who would be high profile?”
“Especially you,” she said softly. He didn’t deny it. As the son of Leonard Sinclair, Evan’s abduction was never going to fly under any radar.
“Maybe they didn’t mean to,” she said. “Maybe they didn’t know who we were. Or who you were.”
“But again, our connection.”
“Yes. You’re right, it’s off,” she said on a sigh.
He sighed too. He felt her frustration. “We need to find someone else. We need to build more of a pattern.”
“Well, I doubt Aria’s going to be so gung ho to dig through reports for you now,” she said. There was a note of bitterness in her tone the same way there had been that morning, and it made a well of hope open within him. She was jealous. At least a little. She uncapped the bottle again and took another sip.
“Probably not,” he agreed, suppressing the smile that threatened. “Any more thoughts about why your dad might have sold your mom’s ring and given the money to Dow?” he asked, changing the subject, since they’d run out of ideas on the current one.
“I racked my brain last night,” she said, massaging her temple. “It had to be for something extremely important to my dad. Of all the money problems he had, all the bill collectors that called our house, he held on to that ring through it all. I didn’t even know, but he did. I just can’t imagine what he let it go for. Nothing makes sense.”
“Like I said before, the only thing that makes sense is if he let it go for you,” Evan said. “You would have been important enough for him to sell your mother’s ring.”
“I agree. It’s the only thing that makes sense to me too. But I wasn’t missing yet. And if he’d been somehow told in advance that I would be and was . . . I don’t know, trying to pay someone off to stop it from happening, he’d have let me know in some way. He’d have warned me or hidden me or something. At the very least, he would have called me.”
Yes. But there was some thread of truth floating around their attempts to understand. It was like he felt it, but he just couldn’t connect it to the part that would then link it to something else until the trail led them to all the answers. It was frustrating as hell, because it wasn’t like they had nothing. They just didn’t have enough. Not yet anyway. “Hey,” he said. “Since we’re here, what do you say we change and go check out the strip? It might help us clear our minds. Sometimes ideas end up coming to me about a case when I put my brain on search and then go off to do something else.” He smiled. But it was true. It’d helped before.
She ran her finger over the label on the water bottle for a minute, finally nodding. “Do you mind if I lie down for a little bit? I slept awful last night. I’d like a shower, and then I’ll meet you in the lobby?”
He stood, holding out his hand. She took it, and he pulled her to her feet. “Sounds good. I’ll see you in a couple hours.”
“I’ll be ready to win the biggest jackpot in town.” She laughed over her shoulder as she opened the door.
“You’re here with me,” he called to her. “You already did.” The door shut, but he heard her laugh from the hall outside.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Grim moaned as he sat up, his head swimming. But after a moment, the world cleared, and for the first time in a damn long time, there was no pounding in his brain.
He still remained caged, however.
He would have preferred an aching head.
The kid was already up. He heard him using the toilet and turned away to give him what privacy he could as he brought one arm over his chest, stretching it, and then doing the same with the other one.
The paper poppy caught his eye, and he wondered again who had sent it and what the point was of reminding him of the daughter he’d loved and lost, the little girl who had been murdered because of him.
There was the whooshing sound of the toilet flushing, Cedro’s waste being sucked into some container below wherever they were being held captive. Was this whole setup designed in a way that could be easily disassembled once he and Cedro were dead? DNA washed away, carted away, swept away.
How easy it would be to dispose of their bodies. Just drop them off somewhere in the unforgiving desert and leave them for vultures. If their bones were ever found, which was unlikely at best, the kid would be thought to have made the poor decision to cross the desert in search of a better life, Grim illegally transporting him.