Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 79413 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79413 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
Maybe I need to, I don’t know, process trauma or something like that. That’s what I went through in that car when gunshots rang out, and I didn’t know if I was going to live or die. And only seconds before that, I was sure I was heading to something awful. Something terrible would have happened if the cops hadn’t stopped us. Maybe I need to process all of that or something. All I know is I can’t shake this feeling.
“Excuse me? Hello?”
My eyelids flutter, and I force myself to stand a little straighter when I turn to face a woman glaring at me from the other side of the conveyor belt. “Yes, ma’am?”
“My change? I gave you a fifty. You put it in the drawer and didn’t give me my change.”
Dammit. I have to check her receipt to remind myself what I owe her, then open the drawer and quickly count out a few bills and some change, which I hastily hand over along with a mumbled apology. She ignores it, rolling her eyes and pushing her cart toward the door.
Clearly, I shouldn’t be facing the public in this mood. Especially when it feels like everybody is staring at me a beat too long. That, I know, is in my head. Nobody actually cares about me. I might as well be invisible most of the time—just another underpaid worker.
“Teagan?” The store manager notices me as he passes by. “Go back to the loading dock. Check over the boxes and make sure everything’s there, then sign for it.” He’s already way past me by the time he finishes giving me the order. I wonder why he’s too busy to do it himself. At least it’s an excuse to get a little air. Hopefully, it will help clear my head because I can’t spend the rest of my day like this.
It’s not a big shipment, just a few dozen cases of cereal and oatmeal, which I check against the invoice before signing off and watching the driver pull away in his truck. The strangest feeling comes over me, like I want to ask him to take me with him. I don’t care where we’re going, so long as we go away from here. Everything’s all wrong lately, and it all started when I walked into that hotel. It’s like I don’t know what’s real anymore. I don’t know who to trust.
“Excuse me. Teagan?”
Speak of the devil. I recognize Griffin immediately. He’s not the kind of guy you can miss. I was too upset and freaked out to pay much attention to his looks when we met before. Now, I take in his dark crew cut and muscular physique and wonder exactly how many hours a day the man spends at the gym.
“Griffin, right?” What is he doing back here? “Is there a problem? I need to get back inside before my manager has a fit.”
“No problem.” His smile is brief, almost like an afterthought. It disappears before I can get a good look at it. “I only have a few questions for you. I hope you don’t mind answering them for me now.”
Red flag. What is he doing tracking me down here? I didn’t tell him where I work, did I? I might have, for all I know. I wasn’t in what you’d call a good headspace when he drove me home. Everything’s a blur. Either way, he could have called me... But did I give him my number? Did he even ask for it?
Is he really a cop at all?
I haven’t agreed to be questioned, but it doesn’t seem to matter. He looks down at a little notepad, which is almost comically small in his big hand, like he’s playing with a kid’s toy. “Had you ever met either of those men before that day?”
“No.”
“And exactly why were you with them at the time, and where were you going?”
Shit. I should have known better than to think I’d get out of this without answering uncomfortable questions. “I was doing a favor for my brother. I don’t know where they were driving to.”
“They didn’t tell you where they were taking you?”
“They were supposed to drive me home. But they told me they had to run another errand.” My skin is crawling, and the sweat that only started beading on my skin now rolls down the back of my neck. It’s warm and sunny out here, but might as well be the dead of winter as I fight the urge to shiver.
“This brother of yours. Where was he at the time?”
“I’m not sure. I really don’t know. That’s why I had to do it for him because he was unavailable.”
“Where is he now? How could I reach him if I need to speak to him?”
“What does he have to do with this? He wasn’t there at the time. He didn’t do anything wrong.” Then why am I babbling like this? Why am I sweating? I wait for him to ask those completely natural questions, but he doesn’t. He only makes another note on his pad.