Total pages in book: 160
Estimated words: 155798 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 779(@200wpm)___ 623(@250wpm)___ 519(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 155798 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 779(@200wpm)___ 623(@250wpm)___ 519(@300wpm)
She’d not seen the other clip then, the one with those guys on the street. I ducked my head down. “Next time maybe I’ll have you come with me.”
“I’d love that.” She nodded to someone behind me. “Miss Vicky sent her in with a whole cart full of eggs.”
I turned, but already knew Martell was coming our way.
He perused the cart. “Bring ’em on back. We’ll look them over, but Vicky’s good with sorting out the bad from the good ones.”
She was indeed, but I still pushed the cart to the back of the store.
I found Deandra again after that, talking with one of their checkers. “I need to run some errands for Vicky, but I have a few things to grab here,” I told her. “I’ll get them when I come back. Is that okay?”
She held up a hand in a wave. “For sure. We’ll have the tally for you.”
I nodded, heading out to my car. I was crossing the lot, my keys in hand, when a shadow fell over me. My chest constricted, and I whirled, but it was only a man going to his vehicle.
He paused, startled by my reaction, before continuing, holding his grocery bag in hand. His tie flapped over his shoulder, and he smoothed it down, looking harried and in a rush.
“Oh. Sorry.”
He gave me a distracted frown, getting in his vehicle and pulling out.
Why had I reacted like that?
I remembered the parked truck from yesterday. And Brett’s comment the night before.
That was it. That was all.
Brett was new to my life, and he worried with reason, but he was the new factor. He had stirred things up inside me. I was fine. Though, as I got in my car and put the key in the ignition, I realized there hadn’t been the usual calls or letters this time.
Whenever I made a public appearance, that stirred the fanatics up. Vicky and Howard would normally have gotten at least a few calls, a few hang-ups.
But nothing this time.
Why was that?
And if that clip was still trending…
It didn’t make sense. Society was obsessed with serial killers. I was connected—and would always be—to a serial killer. The interest wouldn’t die down. It wasn’t that. I’d lived this life for so long that I’d accepted the attention from people, but it hadn’t happened this time.
Unless… I called Howard at his office.
“Mitchell here.”
“There’s been no calls from the fanatics,” I blurted. “Did you guys do something?”
He hesitated before sighing out my name.
I cursed silently. “You did.”
“We, uh, yes. We added another layer of security filters, and it’s helping, but we’re still getting the calls.”
So there were calls.
I didn’t have social media, except for my design business. I needed it for my clients, but they knew to email me if they needed to get in touch. I’d purposely not checked there since my appearance, but there should’ve been nothing anyway. That wasn’t affiliated with Willow Harm at all, only Melanie Morning.
Howard had told me he’d be getting the mail for the next month. He’d said that the morning before I went on the news for that segment…
“Have there been letters?” I asked.
“Billie…” Another hesitation.
“How many?” I croaked.
“Some.”
I still heard hesitation in his voice. I cursed softly to myself. “How many?”
“Billie, it’ll fade out. It always does. It’s just going on longer because of that clip.”
My chest had tightened. It was getting tighter and tighter. “Brett is a new star on our football team, and we went to the Super Bowl last year. That could mean months. Months of attention could stir up…” I sighed. I didn’t want to think what prolonged attention could stir up.
It was its own tsunami. He was a monster, the Midwest Butcher, and there were always others. The documentaries. The shows. The Datelines. He was up there with Manson.
My hands began shaking. “Are you reading the letters?”
“Billie…” Another sigh.
“Goddammit, Howard.”
He was quiet. I never swore, never, and I’d just sworn at him.
“You’ve always let us handle this before,” he said. “Why is this time different?”
“Because before it’s always been brief. This isn’t brief. This might not slow down, and if Brett…” I had to stop because I didn’t know. If we got together? If we stayed together? If he remained a football player?
If he remained being a football star?
“This is so not good.”
Howard let out another sigh. “Maybe Brett could talk to ESPN, see if they’d stop airing the clip? That’s where it’s getting most of its airtime.”
“Yeah. Maybe.”
“You and Brett need to be a secret because of all of this.”
A slightly panicked laugh burst from me. “You think?” I immediately regretted that. “I’m sorry, Howard. I—” I just wished this would go away, but it wouldn’t. It’d never go away. I’d always be connected to the Midwest Butcher.
“Where are you?”
“Running errands for Vicky.” My heart blasted against my chest. I was also trying not to have a heart attack, but I didn’t share that.