Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 72122 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 361(@200wpm)___ 288(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72122 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 361(@200wpm)___ 288(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)
“Listen,” Destiny sniffled. “Just let me talk to Truth. I need him.”
My gut clenched.
I could hear that she was actually upset, but Truth wasn’t hers anymore. She didn’t get to call him when she was having a problem.
“How about you call your husband?” I snapped viciously.
“I can’t,” Destiny cried. “Because he’s dead.”
Chapter 20
You can train a cat to do anything the cat wants to do when the cat wants to do it.
-Fact of Life
Truth
I was at another funeral.
In less than six weeks.
One more family member had died; this was now getting out of hand.
Kenneth hadn’t been anyone special to me, and my old boss, Beckett had known it. He’d done it because he knew I’d know who it was, and he knew I’d be angry—not because Kenneth was someone I cared about, but because Kenneth was mine. He was my blood. And Beckett knew I’d know who did it.
Though it was kind of hard to miss seeing, as Kenneth was executed the exact same way my grandmother and grandfather had been.
Though, this time, Beckett had done him in the middle of a busy intersection. While Kenneth had been in his underwear.
Forty-five people had seen the execution from their cars, and dispatchers had been on the phone with two motorists when the gunshot had sounded.
Though, no one could identify Beckett. He’d been in head to toe black, it’d been dark as fuck outside with only the traffic lights to offer what little illumination there was, and he’d fled the scene on foot, disappearing into a copse of trees.
Why he’d done what he’d done to Kenneth was still a mystery, and one I was determined to figure out. He could’ve taken out any number of people and I’d have been more affected, but he hadn’t…and I wanted to know why.
But the answers would have to wait.
Especially since I now had my father to deal with…again.
It didn’t bode well for me that he’d come.
My father didn’t even have any affiliation with Kenneth. Kenneth was kin to my mother—who hadn’t come. Though I could tell there was something going on there, too.
I hadn’t been able to get a hold of my mother since the funeral, and that meant only one thing. She was ignoring my calls—which she wouldn’t do because, no matter how much my father liked to call me a killer, I was her baby and always would be. The other option would be that she didn’t know that Kenneth had been killed, and she would likely have a conniption when she did find out.
My bet was on door number two.
My father had somehow kept this from my mother.
My father didn’t know how to deal with his wife. It’d been this way since I was a young child.
My mother was not a pushover—at least not to anyone but my father. She wasn’t someone that couldn’t handle what she needed to handle. Yet, my father treated her as if she were a delicate flower that would blow over at the first sign of an impending storm.
My dad had been in the Marines when he’d met my mother, who’d been in the Army.
They’d both been on leave, and had stumbled upon each other at a party that was being thrown by a mutual friend. My mother and father had hit it off, and eventually my mother’s love for my father won out over her desire to be active army, and she retired.
That was about how the rest of her life went. Her bowing down to my father. My father demanding it, and my mother doing it for the good of her marriage or her kids’ happiness.
Which equaled my mother being a doormat for the last thirty-something years that she’d been married to my father, and us kids having to witness the disaster.
Like right now, for instance.
My father was sitting on the outside of the pew, followed by Marnie, Trent, Verity and then me.
Marnie had been told that she had a day and a half max and that she would not be getting any more leave time, no matter who passed away.
Everyone was silent as the preacher said the final prayer and then gestured for the funeral home pallbearers to carry the coffin to the door.
Destiny, wiping tears from her face, followed the pallbearers, and didn’t look at anyone on her way out the door.
Kenneth’s mother, Eugene, and his father walked close behind, expressionless faces telling me nothing.
I got up and offered Verity my hand, and she took it, leaning into me.
I squeezed her hip, admiring the way she filled out her dress, and urged her to walk forward.
Dad stopped halfway in, and halfway out, of the pew and glared at me. I sighed.
Seriously? He was going to do this now with everyone and their brother watching us?
The anger must’ve shown on my face, which was easily read, causing him to turn his back on me and start striding toward the door, not bothering to acknowledge the funeral workers at the door trying to tell us where to go.