Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 86741 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 434(@200wpm)___ 347(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86741 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 434(@200wpm)___ 347(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
“Oh, okay.”
“Why are you here?” I asked, trying to keep the edge out of my voice. And better yet, why the fuck did he still have a key?
“Oh, I was just switching out a part in my car. Roland told me I could borrow some of his tools from the garage.” Dylan looked at me oddly. “Is everything okay?”
“Everything’s fine.”
Kell stepped around the corner then and noticed Dylan. His shoulders squared and he tipped his chin as Dylan looked back.
“Oh. Who’s this?” Dylan asked, smiling again.
“This is my brother, Kell,” I said. “Kell, this is Dylan.”
Kell kept a straight face—I loved that about him. He could hold a mean poker face, always knowing when and when not to react.
“Dylan, nice to meet you.” Kell stuck his hand out and Dylan shook it.
“Likewise, man.” They shook a few seconds longer than a usual handshake and I noticed Dylan trying to pull his hand away but Kell was clinging to it while holding his gaze.
I cleared my throat and Kell finally released his hand. Dylan reeled his hand back and ran his palms down the sides of his jeans. “Well, don’t let me hold you two up. Didn’t realize you were having company, so apologies for interrupting.”
“Don’t worry. It’s fine,” I murmured.
“Okay.” Dylan looked between us. “Let me go find those tools.” He smiled on his way out of the den and Kell didn’t sit until he knew he was gone and out of earshot.
And when he sat, he said, “Nah. There’s no way that guy had anything to do with the first wife’s death. Did you see how nervous he was when I shook his hand? Doesn’t seem like he has the balls.” Kell unlocked the screen of his phone again. “We’ve got some digging to do, but first I need rest, so I need to find a hotel.”
“You could stay here?” I offered, grinning sheepishly.
“Yeah, fucking right.” He laughed, already on his phone, searching for hotels.
* * *
I took Kell to a hotel in town and before he got out, he asked, “You gonna be okay in that house by yourself? You know you can stay with me, right? Two beds.”
“I’ll be fine, and I should be back whenever Roland returns. Just come by tomorrow for breakfast.”
“All right. I’ll stop by.”
“’Kay.”
“Text me if you need me sooner.”
“I will.”
He walked to the trunk, took out his bags, then knocked on the trunk to let me know he was square. I watched him enter the hotel, and when I could no longer see him, I drove back to the mansion, but not without a million and one thoughts running through my mind, the main one being whether Roland was already back at home or not.
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
Roland wasn’t home and the mansion was quiet and empty. It felt strange. As I roamed the halls, making my way to the staircase, all I kept seeing was the woman in white in the corner of my eye. Sometimes she smiled. Sometimes she laughed. Sometimes she just stared at me, haunting me. I knew what she wanted. She wanted me to figure out what the hell had really happened to her, but now I was anxious. Diving deeper meant discovering even more things about Roland that I wasn’t sure I wanted to know. I liked what we had before, but I realized that was all surface level.
Maybe I needed to dive deeper, figure out whether to stay and fight or run and never look back, while I could. As tempted as I was to go to the shed and read more, I didn’t right away. Instead, I ran some bath water in the clawfoot tub and sat in there a while, trying to soak the worries away, but the silence of the mansion was deafening and made it nearly impossible to clear my mind. All I kept thinking about was Melanie in this tub, doing the same thing I was doing—ridding herself of her worries. Or in the shower, her tears blending with the stream as she thought about the way Roland hurt her.
I moved my feet and forced the water to swish but it wasn’t enough, so I sank beneath the water with my eyes closed and held my breath.
I listened to my thudding heartbeat, felt the warmth of the lavender-scented water on my face. But with my eyes closed, I could picture her even more clearly.
Red lipstick.
White clothes. Red splatters.
Her mouth stretched wide-open, crying for help.
Running. Running. Driving. The engine of a car growling, tipping over the edge of a cliff.
I emerged and drew in a deep breath, resting my elbows on the edge of the porcelain tub. When I opened my eyes, I noticed someone leaning against the counter only mere steps away and drew in a sharp gasp.
Startled by my reaction, Roland’s eyes stretched wide and he lifted his hands in the air. “Whoa—hey, it’s just me.”