Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 66839 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 334(@200wpm)___ 267(@250wpm)___ 223(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66839 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 334(@200wpm)___ 267(@250wpm)___ 223(@300wpm)
“He says he’s with the—”
“FBI.” I finished Darien’s sentence.
So much for never looking back.
2
MATTHEW HALE
Blue Creek, New Hampshire.
Who would have thought I’d land here? My job took me to a roulette wheel of different places, most of them larger cities, the seedier places with plenty of shadows and alleys to hide in. I rarely ever came to a small town, which worked out fine for me since I generally disliked them. The routine of it all, the overly familiar faces, the primal hunger for gossip from your neighbors—it was too much for me. I liked the anonymity that came with a big city. You could go to your usual café spot every morning and not have to worry about seeing the same old people, over and over and over again.
There really wasn’t anyone I could think of that I’d want to see that often.
I got off the plane and drove twenty-five minutes into town, surprised at how vibrant everything was. I’d been expecting a run-down pit stop for anyone traveling through the Northeast, but what I found instead was a collection of shops, businesses, and restaurants that all shared DNA but still remained unique. There was a diner that had a pine tree coming up from the center of it, a bar that looked like it used to be an old library, a video game store whose entrance looked like a walkway into the pixelated world of Tron, and a park that was hosting a fall festival, a stream of people entering underneath the decorated arches.
I glanced down at my navigation. The detective agency wasn’t too far from here. I picked up the pace, wanting to get introductions over with so I could get to work.
And so that I can see him again.
Jason Quill. He was going to be there, and he was going to be shocked titless when he saw me.
Good. He deserves it.
My phone dinged at me as I reached my destination. I looked around, slightly confused. All I saw was a pet store named Barks, Birds, and Booze, which didn’t seem like—and then I saw the sign. It was directly above the pet store’s sign: Stonewall Investigations, a rainbow rising up out of the wooden plaque and coming out of it in a 3D-like effect.
Small towns. They’re so fucking weird.
I parked across the street and gave myself a once-over in the mirror. My hair was freshly cut and my face freshly buzzed. I popped a mint in my mouth, straightened my sunglasses, grabbed my jacket, and readied myself for this little reunion… maybe I should have told Jason beforehand? It had been close to six years since I last saw him; what if he’d changed to the point of being unrecognizable?
As I was about to cross the street, tossing answerless questions around in my head, a loud shout caught my attention. It had come from directly in front of me. I looked and saw the doors of the pet store sliding open as a floppy-eared dog came shooting out, the leash dragging behind it while its owner did his best to grab it, coming up an inch short.
The dog was running directly into the street, and there was a car coming. Fast. The driver seemed completely oblivious to the deadly course he was currently on, windows down and music blaring. The dog’s owner skidded to a stop on the sidewalk, shouting for Blueberry to stop, nearly in tears. There were likely seconds—if that—to react. I burst into action, propelling myself into the middle of the street, channeling all the energy and power in my body down to my legs.
Everything happened at the speed of light. I ran directly into the street, throwing one hand up to catch the attention of the driver and arcing my other arm into the perfect hook. The dog didn’t change its trajectory, coming straight for me with its tongue lolling out the side of its mouth as if there wasn’t a massive death machine barreling toward both of us.
I bent down. The dog jumped. I snapped my arm shut, like I was catching a game-winning touchdown. A loud and desperate honk sounded, blasting into my ears. The screech of tires and jangle of country music added to the chorus of chaos.
The pavement slapped against my dress shoes as I ran, hard, using all the momentum I had left in my body.
The car missed running me over by inches. I could have sworn I felt the mirror snag at the back of my shirt as I leaped onto the sidewalk, running straight into the pale-faced owner.
“Watch where you’re going!” the driver shouted out of his window, nearly driving into a lamppost before speeding off.
Guess small towns may not be all that different from cities after all.
“Oh my God, are you okay? What the hell—I can’t believe this, oh my God, Blueberry, come here, boy.”