Total pages in book: 65
Estimated words: 63579 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 318(@200wpm)___ 254(@250wpm)___ 212(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 63579 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 318(@200wpm)___ 254(@250wpm)___ 212(@300wpm)
Not entirely sure if I should be concerned or curious, I glance at Mick who is looking in that direction, too.
Getting off his bike, Western approaches the two of us, and I can’t help but take a small step closer to Mick, unsure why he would be waiting outside and why he’s parked right near my car. Leo is right in the sense that Western has been charged for murder, and as far as I know, he could have very likely committed those crimes. Until I know otherwise, I can’t be too careful.
“Nightmare,” Mick says, extending a hand.
Western takes it, shaking it firmly.
He isn’t waiting for me.
A puff of air escapes my lips and my shoulders slump just a little.
Mick turns to me. “You good?”
I nod, staring at Western, whose eyes are on me.
Something about the way he’s looking at me, makes my skin tingle.
It’s an expression I can’t quite make sense of. It’s not anger, or hatred, or even disgust. It’s curious, and so deep and intense, I find it hard to hold his gaze.
“Thanks for walking me out,” I say to Mick. “Remind me to bring you a bottle of your favorite whiskey at the end of the week.”
Mick grins. “You’re too sweet, Bonnie. Go home and get some rest.”
I flash him a smile and lean up, kissing his cheek. “Goodnight, Mick.”
“Night, sweetheart.”
I look to Western. “Night, Western.”
His eyes flash, no doubt because he told me that wasn’t his name.
I give him my biggest, boldest smile.
Then I get in my car and drive away.
I’ll get the best of him, just you wait and see.
“HAVE YOU GOT ANY INFORMATION yet?” Pete asks as we walk into his office a few days later.
Giving him my best smile and praying it’ll work because it’s all I have right now, I attempt to explain that I haven’t gotten anything yet, but I’m working on it. Turning slowly, Pete gives me a look that tells me he’s not impressed that I haven’t given him what he’s asking for. One chance, that’s all I’m getting here, and I’m running out of time.
“You have to do better, Bonnie,” he tells me, crossing his arms and tipping his head to the side. “I believe in you, I do, but if you’re not going to be like a dog with a bone when it comes to getting information, then you’re not cut out for this kind of work. You have to work harder to get what you need, don’t be so shy about it.”
Dammit, he’s right.
I have been tiptoeing around, because I’m a bit hesitant when it comes to Western and everything surrounding him. Mostly because I’m not one hundred percent sure what I believe, and because of that, I’m careful about the steps I’m taking to get this story. Maybe I need to throw it all in, because if I lose my job, it’ll break my heart.
“I’m sorry,” I say, carefully. “You’re absolutely right. I will get you something. I promise.”
“You have until the end of the week to present me with something that proves you’re worthy of continuing this. I wasn’t happy with the case to begin with, but I’m giving you the chance to blow it out of the water. It is just what this company needs, the infamous case that everyone talks about, but if you can’t get me something, I’ll have to pull you.”
My body jerks, just a touch. I nod, promising I’ll get him what he needs, and then I leave the office. Palms sweating, I walk out onto the street, trying to figure out my next move. I have to do better. I need more. I can’t tiptoe around Western anymore, I have to dive right in. He’ll never talk to me if I don’t. Without him, this story is nothing. I have to do this, and I have to do it right.
Glancing down at my watch, I see I have four hours until my shift starts. Long enough for me to go and talk to Braithe’s mom. I know where she lives—everyone knows where she lives—but that isn’t the problem. The problem is, she doesn’t like talking to anyone, and I’m certain I’ll be no different. I need a different angle, something else to get her to pay attention, to talk, to let me in.
As I walk toward my car, I come up with a plan.
It’s a risky plan, but if she so much as suspects I’m a reporter, or even close to being someone who is digging a little too deep, she won’t let me in.
I have to be smarter.
Arriving at her house, I get out of my car and stare up at the large home that is overgrown and falling apart. She has never left it, but in turn, she hasn’t taken care of it either. The garden, which I have no doubt was once beautiful, is a mass of overgrown weeds. Amongst the weeds, I can see a glimpse of a beautiful garden seat, that is now covered in green moss and is basically part of the weed system.