Total pages in book: 131
Estimated words: 122609 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 613(@200wpm)___ 490(@250wpm)___ 409(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 122609 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 613(@200wpm)___ 490(@250wpm)___ 409(@300wpm)
Thirty minutes later, she was all finished and started to wrap up. As she placed her gear back in the cases, she felt a soft caress against her shoulder. She looked and saw long fingers dragging along the black fabric of her shirt, then he disappeared behind her, walking in another direction.
She hadn’t even noticed or heard him approach. He was like a human whisper. She sat there, perplexed. Snapping out of it, she finished her packing, said her goodbyes, and walked out the front door. His black Lamborghini Aventador, one of many of his toys, was pulled up front, the passenger’s door suspended in air.
He didn’t wrap his arm around her, guide her into the car, or force her into the back with handcuffs. It was almost as if all of this was a cruel test to see what she’d do. If she chose wrong, she was certain she’d be wearing a bullet deep within her heart. She got into the car and before she could reach to close the door, she startled.
“Ahhh!”
He laughed when the black and white suede bucket seat leaned backwards, and she clutched her chest as she watched the car’s scissor door close on its own. She laughed at herself too, feeling a bit foolish.
“I’ve been in cars like this, well, with doors like this. I guess I just wasn’t paying attention.”
“They’re Lambo doors, but some people call them switchblade doors. They rotate vertically on a fixed hinge at the front of the ingress, rather than outward like most other car doors.”
“Yeah. It startled me is all. If I wanted to close it myself, how would I do it?” She tried to figure it out as she sat there, studying the interior in wonder.
“Why? Are you planning on jumping out in traffic?” She gave him a surprised look to find him grinning. As he entered traffic, he turned on some tunes, starting with ‘Golden,’ by Strfkr.
“Of course not. These are my favorite jeans.”
He smiled all the wider at that. “You pull on that little handle loop. See it?”
“Yeah.”
The car was loud as he maneuvered it like some race car driver, and looked like something from the Star Trek Enterprise on the inside. Three buttons read: Strata, Sport, and Corsa. She wondered what they meant but didn’t ask.
She inhaled, then exhaled while looking out the window at the scenery. For a split second, everything was normal. Everything was okay. For a split second, it felt like she’d been picked up for a date. The car smelled brand new. She loved that smell… But soon, she eased herself out of her fantasies and gave way to reality once more. She got ready to make a comment about one of her cameras needing a new battery when his cellphone buzzed. When they approached a red light about three minutes later, he checked his phone.
“Hmmm… looks like someone named Michael Silver is tryna reach you.” He’d already explained to her previously that he had her phone transferring messages to one of his burner phones.
“Yeah. He’s one of the big guys at the paper. Managing Editor. Did he leave a message?”
“Yup.”
As the light turned green, he played the voicemail as they continued to move through traffic.
“Honey, good job with the restaurant. I’m sure you still think it’s beneath you, but you have to prove yourself trustworthy. I’m going to bat for you here.” She sucked her teeth as she listened to the bastard bump his gums. “I’m glad you decided to take this seriously. It does nothing but shed a better light on you while we work this out. That’s not the reason I’m calling though. Call me as soon as you get this message. It’s super important!”
She looked at Archer who turned onto another street. Without asking, he re-dialed the missed call number from her phone, and had it play through the speaker of the car so she could speak to the guy.
“Hello, Mr. Silver, it’s—”
“Yeah, yeah! So glad you called back. Listen, Honey. This is huge. I got wind that there’s a situation in Boulder right this second that I want you to try and get to.”
“Uh… okay. Hold on. Let me get something to write with.” As though it had been planned, James reached over, opened a little hatch, and pulled out a small paper pad and ink pen, then handed them to her. She nodded in appreciation. “Okay, go on.”
“A girl by the name of Jessica Turner has shown up at the police station. She had been abducted from Dayton, Ohio at the age of eight. She’s now nineteen. She escaped from a house on 19th street. As you may or may not know, this is the same area as the one in the JonBenét Ramsey case. This story is gonna break to the public in about an hour or so. Please, please, please rush over there as soon as you can and try to get some shots, then send them to me ASAP. Don’t worry about the editing and finishes, just give me your raw work so we can get the story up with fresh images.”