Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 97944 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 490(@200wpm)___ 392(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97944 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 490(@200wpm)___ 392(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
Pulling myself together, I shower and get dressed by myself, my shoulder feeling almost normal again. When I finish the final touches of my makeup, I glance at my reflection. “Today, you take control of your future, you hot little bitch.”
I head downstairs to make peace with Tate so he can drive me somewhere, finding him in the living room. He’s not alone, though. “Detective Rochel?”
“Afternoon, Miss Parks.”
I glance at Tate as he watches me approach, his blank stare in place.
“Did something happen?”
“Chad’s alibi checks out. It isn’t him.” Detective Rochel steps forward, handing me a photo. “But I do have something. Do you recognize this man?”
I peer down at the side profile of a man, trying to make out anything through the blurriness of the image and shake my head. “It’s hard to tell, but he isn’t ringing any bells.” I meet the detective’s gaze. “Why?”
He takes the photo back. “We think this may be the man who assaulted you.”
My eyes widen, and I glance at Tate. “How?”
“All cameras in the vicinity had been tampered with. We assumed whoever it was had a device that reroutes Wi-Fi signals, scrambling any feed using those signals to record. Fortunately, a ma-and-pa shop a few blocks down from the studio still has its systems hardwired to an old-school router. Their cameras caught this man walking past shortly before your attack.”
“So, what does this mean?”
“It means this might be the person who attacked you. We have a partial face. Now, we just need to figure out who he is. My logistics team is running the picture. If he’s in the system, we’ll find a match. Just thought I’d chance seeing if you recognized him to speed up the process.”
I shake my head. “I don’t.”
“It’s okay. We’ll catch him. Sorry to bother you two. I’ll let you get on with your day.” He shakes my hand, then Tate’s, and sees himself out.
“I don’t know—”
“Don’t overthink it.”
“But—”
“Mindy, they have his face. That’s good. The motherfucker is done.”
“Okay.” I nod. He doesn’t approach me or console me any other way but with words. “Look, I’m sorry for the way I acted earlier.”
“You don’t owe me an apology.”
“I do. This…person I’ve been lately is not me. I have been acting like a child. And I’m sorry. I just want a truce. No more petty shit. I know why you’re here. I’ll stop fighting it and throwing tantrums because I can’t get my way or because you don’t like me.”
“Mindy, I—”
“Nope. No explanations. They aren’t needed. I’m okay. I’ll be okay. Truce?” He doesn’t move. I hate the way my body comes to life under his perusal. I blow out a breath, getting my body under control.
After what feels like forever, he finally nods. “Truce.”
“Phew. Good. Okay. So, if you don’t have other plans, I need you to drive me somewhere.”
“And that is?”
“No questions or comments on why, okay?” Another nod. “I need you to take me to a library.” Probably not the response he expected, but he remains passive.
“I’m ready when you are.”
“Cool. Great. I’m gonna grab my things. I’ll be right back.” I head back upstairs and get my purse. When I return, Tate leads us to his waiting SUV. Like a good girl, I don’t mess with the music, locking my fidgety hands in my lap. We pull up to the library, and I wait until he’s parked to climb out with him. Look at me, being so obedient. We walk in, and I turn to Tate before we hit the information desk. “Not a word.”
“Got it.”
“Good afternoon. Can I help you?”
“Yes. I need to apply for a library card. Then can you direct me to where I can find books or a list of helpful websites for applying for college?”
Fifteen minutes later, with a new library card and a stack of books in hand, I find a table with an open computer. Entering my credentials, I log in and go to type in my search, quickly realizing I don’t know what I’m searching for. I sit there, my fingers hovering over the keys.
“Start with local colleges.”
I peer at Tate. “Huh?”
“Depending on what you’re looking for, start with community colleges or four-year universities.”
“You think I’m silly for doing this—”
“I think you’re amazing for doing this.”
Truce, truce, truce, I chant in my head, biting the inside of my cheek. I really want to jump into his lap and kiss him. “Thanks,” I say, wishing my voice wasn’t filled with emotion. “Okay,” I break our connection, “let’s start with local colleges.” Pages and pages of results pop up, and a wave of anxiety rushes through me.
“Do you mind if I try something?”
I shake my head and move over so Tate can take the wheel. He changes the wording, narrowing down the search. “Here we go.” He points to the list on the screen. “These are even more localized and will give you a breakdown of what classes they offer. Some are only community. It may be a good place to start until you figure out what you want to major in.”