Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 114820 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 574(@200wpm)___ 459(@250wpm)___ 383(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 114820 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 574(@200wpm)___ 459(@250wpm)___ 383(@300wpm)
He saw the red wax of the hotel-bar-sized Maker’s Mark, and he tore into that fucker.
He’d be sure to pay for it himself when he checked out.
He poured four fingers into a glass, walked to the couch and collapsed to his ass.
He took a sip.
He stared at the fire.
He took another sip.
He stared at the fire some more.
He wondered if he’d have enough energy when he was done drinking to make it to the bed.
He then realized he hadn’t had a thing to eat since the food Lucinda arranged for him.
Which meant he was smirking when he pulled out his phone and checked it.
Text from Acre, I’m alive. I’m stocked. But if you’re feeling generous, don’t hesitate to send condoms.
As ever, reading that, Rus was wondering at the wisdom of making himself a safe place for sex talk with his son. He didn’t want him to do anything stupid, like get a girl pregnant or get or give an STD.
But…
Jesus.
Text from Sabrina, Going to bed! Love you, Dad!
And there was his girl, all grown, and she still texted she was going to sleep.
Better than Maker’s Mark.
He still took another sip.
Then he texted them both, sending his love.
Next up, text from McGill, Alerts in place. Credit cards. Airports. Etc. His cell is off. But we’re on him.
He hoped Corbin either came in or screwed up, and he hoped he did one of them soon. He wanted the man’s ass in jail. He wanted to know who his partner was, because Rus knew he went to that motel with a partner, someone who called the shots.
He wanted this done.
And if CK was there, he wanted him to have reason to get out of Misted Pines.
Whoever caught that case when Rus did whatever Rus was going to do next could find him somewhere else.
Text from Bohannan #1, Appreciate you. What you did with Jace. Won’t forget it.
That came in before the text from McGill.
Text from Bohannan #2 came in after it, Harry called. I’m going over the file again tonight. I want to tweak my profile with this new possible. Larue wants you over for dinner tomorrow. Doable?
He texted back, Doable. Give me a time and see you then.
Then he went back to the text that came after Acre, but before Sabrina.
Text from Lucinda, I’m sorry I zoned out like that with you. I already knew it was something bad, or you would have told me. If you want, call me when your day is done.
He was tired as fuck.
But he didn’t hesitate.
He went to her name, hit info, hit her number and put the phone to his ear.
He drank more bourbon and stared at the fire.
“Hey, Rus,” she answered.
Not all better, but her low, husky voice in his ear sure helped.
“How you doing?” he asked.
“Better. Um…I don’t know how to tell you this, you might already know, but I sense I’m kind of your local touchstone, and I feel it’s important for you to know, so I’m just going to tell you. Rumor is flying you guys are searching for Ezra Corbin.”
“We are, though I didn’t know rumor was flying.”
“His wife, apparently, is beside herself.”
That was true.
Rus took another drink.
Then he said, “It’s been a day. I had three hours of sleep. And you know what?”
“What?”
“It sure felt good coming back to this room.”
Soft laughter.
Damn, he’d like to see that. He’d had a few smiles, no laughs.
But it sounded good.
“I grew up in a cult,” he announced.
“I…pardon?”
She sounded stunned.
As she would.
“My name,” he began. “I grew up in a cult. It was a Christian cult. When I was two, my dad was in a car accident. He died, or his heart stopped, for about a minute. They brought him back, and when he recovered, he was different. At least that’s what my grandparents said, my aunts and uncles as well. He went on about all that white light business. Said he saw Jesus. Got hooked up with this guy who was off, but he had a following. A pretty big one. It wasn’t anything weird. It wasn’t Koresh or Jim Jones. But it wasn’t mainstream either, and it was insular. Very insular. Take away the polygamy, adding books to the Bible and women dressing in outfits from the eighteen hundreds, and it was kinda fundamental Mormon. In other words, intense.”
“Well, wow,” she said carefully.
Her response didn’t sound promising, but he kept sharing.
“Women were definitely quiet, subjugated. But everyone did what the elders told you to do. Dad was an elder. The head preacher man, Richard, was the top authority and essentially told the elders what to do. He said Jesus brought Dad back from the dead. He used Dad a lot in his sermonizing. It was him who changed Dad’s last name to Lazarus. Dad did it legal for him, Mom, all of us. The name I was born with was Sawyer Wells, but I was too young to ever remember being that kid. They changed my first name, and my brothers’ names too. Because Pastor Rich told them to.”