Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 91786 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 459(@200wpm)___ 367(@250wpm)___ 306(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91786 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 459(@200wpm)___ 367(@250wpm)___ 306(@300wpm)
“Oh my, I’m so sorry!” she says. “Didn’t know this room was occupied.”
“Get out,” he growls. She turns and fairly runs.
Why do you have to be such a dick to everyone?
It’s probably a good thing he can’t hear me.
He stalks over to the desk and grabs a Cambridge yellow legal pad. He practically shoves it in my hands, then gives me a blue pen with the Scottish flag on it.
“I’ll ask, you write.”
I nod. Fair enough. I’m used to this.
“Do you know Father MacGowen?”
I write. Aye.
I bite my lip, embarrassed when I realize I could’ve easily just nodded.
He nods. “How?”
This response takes me a bit longer.
He’s a friend of mine. Sometimes I need to leave my home, and he’s given me refuge at the church a few times. He’s very good to me and I like him very much.
“Why do you need to leave home?”
It never occurs to me to tell him anything but the truth. I’ve nothing to hide, and if I’m honest… I don’t want to go back. Perhaps this family can consider me an ally of sorts. Or perhaps that’s my overactive imagination again.
I go back to writing, giving him nothing but the bold, honest truth.
I am mistreated at home. My brother is an alcoholic and he beats me when he’s angry. My mother enables him. They are not kind people.
Since it takes me a moment to write, he doesn’t watch me write, but waits until I’m finished, then looks at the paper when I show him the pad. I don’t know what to expect from his reaction. Indifference? Curiosity? But it’s nothing like how he actually responds.
His eyes narrow, and his jaw clenches. His whole body stiffens, as he clenches his hands into fists.
“Tell me your brother’s name.”
Dougal Reilly.
Will he find him? Will he do something?
And why does the thought of him doing that give me a sliver of hope? I’m not a vindictive person…
Am I?
“He’s the one that gave you the bruise on your cheek?”
I completely forgot about that. I hesitate for a moment, then nod.
He doesn’t ask me a question for a moment, but takes his mobile out of his pocket and slides his finger along the screen. He doesn’t tell me what he types, of course, but curiosity is killing me. He slides his mobile back in his pocket, and sits beside me. For the first time, I write something on the pad before he has a chance to ask me another question.
I could do this a lot faster if it weren’t by hand and I could type on a mobile. His face alights with interest.
“You mean like texting me?”
I nod. Even faster than writing.
“Excellent. I’d like that.” He takes his mobile out again and places a call. A second later, I can tell someone’s answered.
“Can you do me a favor?” There’s a pause, then he continues. “I need a burner phone, high quality. Going to text with Cairstina.”
He nods and holds my gaze. “Aye, it is a lovely name.”
My heart does that squeezing thing again. I swallow hard and doodle along the margins of the page. A sun and a moon, a little star, a teeny, tiny Scottish flag.
He hangs up the phone. “We’ll have a phone for you within the hour, but you will not be allowed to communicate with anyone but me until further notice. Do you understand?”
I nod. Of course. He really doesn’t know me at all.
Who on earth would I actually communicate with?
I write on the pad and show it to him.
That won’t be a problem. I have no interest in communicating with anyone else. The only friend I have is Father MacGowen, and I wouldn’t get in touch with my mother or brother if I were dying.
He looks at me curiously after that, this time not asking any more questions.
* * *
Chapter Seven
Leith
The interrogation goes on for over an hour, as the communication is slow and halting.
“Do you know who I am?”
“Do you know what you witnessed in the graveyard?”
“Will anyone come looking for you?”
At the last question, her face falls and she shakes her head. I’m sorry to tell you, but no. She looks so mournful, that I decide to give her a break.
I hate how hot and stifling it is, and decide I need to get out. Islan will be here any moment with the phone, so as soon as she is, we’ll head outside.
I pace back and forth in the study, trying to get my bearings. Trying to understand what to do next. What will I do with this woman? I feel like I’ve rescued a defenseless puppy who was orphaned or some such shite. If I release her back into the wild, whatever happens to her is on fucking me.
I can’t let her go anyway, since she was witness to a crime. I know I can’t, and if my father’s reaction was any indication at all, after leading the Cowen Clan for decades, I know he thinks I’ve been far too easy on her. His words from a lecture days before ring in my ears, over and over again.