Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 91212 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91212 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
I look in his direction, tears already streaming down my face.
"What happened?" I ask the man who I seriously doubt is actually from Charleston police, but it would be suspect if an ICE agent showed up to announce the overdose of someone.
"The autopsy is scheduled for later in the week," the man answers. "But preliminary findings point to an overdose."
"Cora?" Chris sobs, and I rush to him immediately.
Eddie stands and goes to Faye who is crying into her dinner napkin.
William stands in the doorway to the dining room, his face twisted in anger, jaw clenching repeatedly.
The fake cop looks at everyone in the room, and I feel like an animal behind a glass wall as someone taps the glass urging me to perform a certain way, but my heart is shattering all over again as I hold my sobbing brother.
This is horrific, to ask this of us.
"I was hoping that I could get some information," Mr. Granger or whatever his name is says.
"Information?" William snaps. "What could we possibly tell you about what happened to her?"
With a calm and cool look in his eyes, Mr. Granger turns to my eldest brother. "We're hoping you might know some of her connections. Did she mention any specific people in her life? I can only imagine your suffering, but we're hoping you might have information on who could've sold her the drugs."
"Do we look like the type of people who know the names of drug dealers? I'm going to ask you to leave."
"Mr. Preston, we—"
"We can make arrangements to speak with you and your colleagues at another time. Please, allow us some time to process the information you've provided."
Mr. Granger looks to Eddie as if he has all the information he needs, but William isn't placed in handcuffs, and the fact that my brother can be so callous makes me cautious. Is he involved or is he taking the lead in such a family tragedy the way he feels he needs to?
From watching him lift his hand toward the front of the house to give the officer another nudge in that direction, I can't even tell.
"She's gone?" Chris says, his face contorting with pain. "He's lying, right? This is just a cruel joke?"
"I don't think he's lying," I whisper, my throat threatening to seize with emotion.
I feel the warmth of a hand on my back and sigh with relief to look up and see that it's Eddie and not William. I don't know when I started to let the idea of his involvement in Sadie's death sink in, but I realize at this moment that at least a part of it has settled inside of me, making me cautious of him.
I hate the feeling. It's not much different from the regret I feel over my actions where Sadie is concerned. It's like acid boiling deep inside of me, threatening to consume me from the inside out. I hate all of it.
"I'm going to ask you to leave as well, Agent Yarrow," William says when he comes back into the room.
"What?" I snap, looking up at my brother.
"He is here to work on finding Sadie," William says, looking at the man in question rather than me. "She has been located and his services are no longer needed."
"William," Chris says, his voice weak and offended at how insensitive he's being right now.
"He's right," Eddie says, his finger curling into my back for a second before he takes a step back. "I'll gather my things."
"Eddie," I whisper, catching his eyes.
"I'm so sorry for your loss, Ms. Preston," he says before leaving the room.
A putrid sense of betrayal washes over me, and I don't know whether to aim my anger at the man who just so easily walked away or at my brother for suggesting he do so.
It isn't five minutes later when Chris's sobs begin to soften that I hear the front door open and close again.
William still stands sentry near the doorway to the dining room, and I glare at him with tears in my own eyes and angle my head toward Faye. The woman needs comfort, too. Sadness fills his eyes when he looks at the woman and he moves closer to her.
"Let's get you up to your room," he cajoles, and I think it's possibly the softest I've ever seen William.
He's always so stoic and unemotional.
"How about we move to the den?" I suggest to Chris.
He uses his cloth dinner napkin to dab at his eyes and swipe under his runny nose, and I feel heartbroken all over again when he looks up at me.
"How is this even possible?" he asks, shaking his head as if he still can't believe she's really gone. "We lost Mom and Dad and now Sadie? Who's next?"
"No one, " I assure him as I help him stand.
I remember when I got the news about Dad. Christopher was with him. They took a little time to go to the golf course for Chris's fourteenth birthday, and our father collapsed on the course. He was alone then and devastated, and I can only imagine what lasting effect that has had on his birthday. He smiles and tries to act like it's a day worth celebrating, but I've always seen the shadows in his eyes when we attempt to celebrate as if he blames himself for what happened.