Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 55328 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 277(@200wpm)___ 221(@250wpm)___ 184(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 55328 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 277(@200wpm)___ 221(@250wpm)___ 184(@300wpm)
After we landed at a private airport outside Tallahassee, I found another older gentleman—lanky with a silver buzz cut—waiting for me by the security area. And when I opened my mouth to ask how he knew King, the man simply held up his palm.
“Don’t bother with the questions,” he said with a hint of an accent. Greek perhaps. “I’m here to drive you wherever you need to go. That’s it.”
I scowled. What I needed were facts because my quicksand of reality was quickly becoming flypaper. A sticky death trap.
After a thirty-minute drive, our shiny black sedan pulled up to my house. The front lawn had been mowed, the weeds were gone, and the trees had been pruned. It even looked like the windows had been cleaned.
Had my dad done all this?
“Thanks for the ride, um—sorry, what’s your name?”
He turned around and handed me a card. “Mr. Spiros. Call this number if you wish to go anywhere. I won’t be far.”
Another Spiros. Okay. I frowned. Not offended, just confused. I wasn’t sure if King wanted this guy to protect me or keep an eye on me. Both maybe. I was, after all, a Ten Club “collectable” according to him. I was also King’s presumed secret weapon.
“Thank you.” I offered a polite smile and exited the vehicle.
As I approached my house, I noticed how different the place felt. Like someone who gave a shit lived here.
“Hey, I’m home!” I walked in the front door, noticing a pine scent in the air, and tossed my duffel bag and purse on the couch in the living room. “Hello?”
“Jeni!” Dad called out from somewhere toward the back of the house.
I found him in the laundry room just off the kitchen next to the back door. He was whistling, folding towels, and looking damned cheery about it, too. Nobody ever looked cheery about laundry.
“How was the trip?”
“Um, yeah. It was fun,” I lied. There were two living heads in a jar, so there was that.
“Did you do any sightseeing?”
I saw a lot of things. None of them I cared to think about. “A little. It rained most of the time.”
“Ah. That’s a shame.”
I glanced at the ring on dad’s index finger as he folded a dishtowel and set it on top of the dryer. “Maybe you’ll have better luck next visit.”
“Sure. Maybe. Hey, I was wondering, where’d you get that ring? It’s really unique.”
Dad lifted his hand and inspected his finger. “I found it in the backyard. Musta been there for decades. I was thinking of getting it appraised, but I kinda like it.” He rotated his wrist, looking at it from both sides.
So King had planted fake memories in his head. I wondered how that trick worked. Could he get me to remember things that hadn’t happened, too?
“Then you should keep it.” I had to wonder, though, if sooner or later King would want the ring back. Not if we both die, carrying out his mass execution. First, I had to figure out if I could trust King. Was he using me in some sort of revenge slash power grab, or was he telling me the truth about ridding the world of his “monster”?
“Dad? Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
“The man who killed Mom, did you ever see him after he was let go?”
Dad stopped folding and turned to face me. “Why do you ask?”
Because King said I should—to verify part of his story. “I don’t know. I just thought about that guy the other day, and it triggered an old memory. I was curious if it was real.”
“Well, I don’t really like to talk about all that, but I never want to hide anything from you, honey.”
I waited while he drew a deep breath.
“He came to our house maybe a year after the incident.”
“And?” I asked.
“He was drunk. Ranting. Out of his mind.”
“What did he want?”
Dad shook his head of sandy blond hair, disgusted. “He claimed he wanted to make amends by taking you off my hands and caring for you—like I said, out of his mind. But I’m glad he showed up. I got to see how miserable and pathetic he was.” My father returned to folding, grabbing another towel from the dryer. “I realized he didn’t need to go to prison to be punished. Existing was torture enough for him.”
I didn’t agree. Mostly because Victor was free, living a life of luxury and probably mowing down more innocent people. “But if you could’ve punished him some other way, if it had been your choice, would you have done it?”
Dad paused for a moment and stared at the wall. “I think if it had been up to me, I would have him shot. But that’s not an option, so the next best thing is knowing he’s a piece of shit and will never be loved. He’ll never have a beautiful daughter who makes him proud and loves him. He’ll never know happiness. And from what I saw, that knowledge tormented him.”