Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 71814 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 359(@200wpm)___ 287(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71814 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 359(@200wpm)___ 287(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
My forefinger flicked along the tabs that labeled each folder. Some were cases. Others were names. I chewed on the inside of my cheek as I strained my eyes, trying to find anything at all that related to arson.
But there was nothing.
A groan sounded from me as I shut the last drawer, my head shaking. I just needed to find something. That meant going up to the attic that I avoided like the plague when I was younger.
Now, it called to me, giving me hope for answers. I wandered out into the hallway, my eyes finding the attic door cord. I paused and stared up at it, wishing that something promising was just up above me.
I took a breath before pulling the cord and extending the stairs. A cough broke from me as dust fluttered in the air above me, eerie darkness looming up ahead. Wrinkling my nose, I climbed up the steps into the darkness, my shoulders tensing as it enveloped me. “Where is the damn light?”
My fingers finally brushed the string, and dull, orange-hued light flooding the small attic. Piles of boxes, old furniture, and my old school projects filled the space, along with probably some spiders and whatever other creatures found their way up here.
With a hunched back, I shuffled around, pulling open boxes, sneezing, and not finding a damn thing. Well, I found a few old books from my childhood, which was pretty cool, but magical fantasy adventures wouldn’t help me figure out this case.
I rubbed my irritated nose and dropped down on top of a plastic box full of photo albums. Part of me wanted to look through them, but it wouldn’t do me any favors. There wouldn’t be any answers among captured memories.
This was a dead end.
My surge of motivation from earlier fizzled out, leaving me feeling defeated and lost. It didn’t help that this attic was so stuffy.
I dragged myself out of there and strode right out of the house without looking back, sucking in a deep breath of fresh air. My head felt somewhat clearer now, but disappointment still lingered in the back of my mind. Honestly, just being near my childhood home made me feel uneasy.
I was faced with two choices. One, I could go back to my place and sulk. Two, I could go a few streets down to one of my favorite coffee shops from back in the day and get one of their infamous sweet rolls. Or two.
Drowning my sorrows in sweets it was.
It only took me a few minutes to arrive at Sugar Grind, this town’s best combination coffee shop and bakery. My mouth was on the verge of watering as I strode down the sidewalk toward the storefront, already imagining how warm and fluffy that sweet roll would be.
“Zoe?”
I came to an abrupt stop at the sound of my name. Why did the voice sound kind of familiar? I spun around to see a tall, lean, and handsome man approaching me. My head tilted to the side a little as I took in his features, wondering why in the world he seemed so familiar.
Striking brown eyes. A crooked, boyish grin with a set of dimples. Slightly curly, dark hair. Holy shit.
“Kit?” I gasped once he was within a few feet of me. It was definitely him.
He grinned brighter and nodded.
“Hey, you remember me!” he laughed. “Squeak, squeak.”
I threw my arms around one of my best friends from childhood, our laughter mingling as we squeezed each other.
“You remember our squirrel language!” I exclaimed.
“Duh. Kieran and I still joke about that,” Kit replied as we broke apart with smiles on our faces. Kieran was his slightly older brother, who I was just as close to as him. We all had the most close-knit friendship until they moved away during middle school for their dad’s job.
That was probably the first heartbreak I had suffered. The three of us weren’t just friends. The Fink brothers lived down the street from me, so we essentially grew up together.
My heart fluttered as I processed the fact that he was really standing in front of me right now.
“Where’s Kieran? And what are you doing back in town?” I asked him.
“I could ask you the same thing. I heard from an old friend that you moved away a little while ago,” Kit replied as he crossed his arms over his chest. He loomed over me, now much taller than he used to be when we were kids.
“I became a journalist in North Carolina. I came back here to write a story on the arson incidents and help figure out what’s going on,” I explained, giving him the short version. I wanted to know about him and his brother. I never thought our trio would ever reunite.
Kit’s warm eyes widened.
“No shit. Really?” he asked. “I heard about all of that. It’s insane.”