Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 58727 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 294(@200wpm)___ 235(@250wpm)___ 196(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58727 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 294(@200wpm)___ 235(@250wpm)___ 196(@300wpm)
There’s no mistaking the hope in her pretty brown eyes. Sadie looks down at her lap, clearly upset that she didn't choose her words better.
“Not exactly,” Sadie says. “Not the way you mean.”
Brenda frowns. “What are you trying to say, Sadie?”
Sadie turns to me, her eyes glistening. But she won’t cry. Already I know she won’t. She’ll be strong for her mother. For herself.
“Miles, could you…”
“You sure?”
Sadie nods.
“The two of you are freaking me out here.” Brenda flickers her gaze between us.
I take a sip of my water to soothe my parched throat. “Brenda, I’m so sorry to let you know, but your son’s body has been found.”
Brenda gasps again, her hand flying to her mouth.
“I’m so sorry, Ms. Hop— I mean Brenda.”
Sadie rises then, brings her mother to her feet, and embraces her.
Brenda cries, and Sadie rubs her back.
I’m not exactly sure what to do, so I pet Princess, who somehow ended up in my lap.
They take a few minutes, and then they break their embrace.
“I suppose it’s good to finally know,” Brenda says.
Sadie nods. “None of this is good, Ma. But you’re right. At least we don’t have to wonder anymore.”
“How do you know all of this? Where was he found?”
Sadie nods to me again.
“He was found on the Bridger ranch,” I say, speaking carefully. “His body was found by a creek.”
“What was he doing—”
“Before you jump to conclusions,” Sadie says, “Miles and his brothers didn’t have anything to do with any of it. If anyone on the Bridger land was involved, it was their father, Jonathan Bridger, and he—”
“He’s dead.” Brenda looks my way. “I read about it. I’m sorry for your loss.”
“Don’t be,” I say. “I didn’t even know him. He’s dead and buried. And he left my two half-brothers and me with a big mess. But we’re dealing.”
Brenda fidgets with a strand of her hair. “I need some time to process this.”
“Of course you do,” I say.
“Does your father know?” Brenda asks Sadie.
Sadie sighs. “Yeah. We saw him this morning. He was his usual affable self.”
“Oh God, baby doll. I’m sorry you had to deal with him.”
“It’s okay. He’s harmless, really. He did give us what Joey left in the garage. It was mostly stuff to donate, but I was able to find a few things and possibly some information. We don’t think he was really working for a trucking company.”
Confusion creases her brow. “Then what was he doing?”
“We’re not sure,” I say. “Our working theory is that he was doing undercover work with the EPA.”
“The Environmental Protection Agency?” Brenda sniffles. “Why?”
“I don’t know, Ma. Maybe he got interested in the environment. You and I really didn’t have a lot of contact with him after the divorce.”
“That was Curt. Curt poisoned him against us.”
“I’d like to think Joey had enough intelligence not to listen to our father.” Sadie sighs. “There’s something else we need to think about, Ma. We should have some kind of memorial for Joey. Once we’re able to take possession of his remains.”
Brenda nods. “I suppose you’re right. I never wanted to have one when I thought he might still be out there.”
“You were holding out hope,” Sadie says. “And I know I wasn’t all that supportive about that. I’m sorry. I’m glad you had hope.”
“I did. But now it’s gone, Sadie. Joey’s gone.”
“Joey’s gone,” Sadie echoes. “But we still have each other.”
22
SADIE
* * *
I drive with Miles to the station the next morning for the meeting with Peterson. Not that I even have my car. Chance and Austin take Chance’s truck, and Mr. Shankle is supposed to meet us there.
I still haven’t talked to Miles about the attorney I met yesterday. After spending the rest of the visit with Ma making some preliminary arrangements for Joey’s memorial, I didn’t have it in me to talk about anything else.
I stayed at Miles’s house last night, not wanting to be alone. Heck, I didn’t want to be in bed alone. Not when I know what it’s like to have Miles beside me. Have him hold me. He pulled me into his arms and spent hours making me forget about Joey, my father, everything. Even my name.
Miles and I are the last ones to arrive at the station, which doesn’t look good on me, being that I work there. I’m sure everyone by now has heard about my brother’s death.
We walk through the station, and the receptionist waves to me and offers condolences and then tells me that Mark is in the small conference room waiting.
We enter, and Mark, Mr. Shankle, Chance, and Austin are all seated around a small round table.
Peterson nods to the coffee maker in the corner. “You know what to do, Hopkins.”
I don’t particularly want a cup of coffee—and Peterson’s a chauvinistic dickhead—but it will keep my sweaty hands busy. I glance up at Miles. “Coffee?”