Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 85322 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 427(@200wpm)___ 341(@250wpm)___ 284(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85322 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 427(@200wpm)___ 341(@250wpm)___ 284(@300wpm)
“What about Trip and Ellie?” I wondered. “What about your nephews? You used to insist on making sure they saw each other, regardless if you was on bad terms with your sisters and whatever.”
He took a breath and calmly set down the sixth plate in the stack. That was it. Six people for dinner.
“I don’t know what to say. Whenever I think about…” He trailed off when we heard the doorbell.
Who was here now? I doubted it was Colby. For one, he was in the city seeing some friends. For two, he finally came and went as he chose. No more knocking on the door. He used his key. For three, he was supposed to head over to JJ’s family later. Colby’s relationship with his brother was on the frosty side, but he’d grown closer to his cousins.
I pushed up the sleeves of my Henley and headed out into the hallway, and I opened the door.
Whoa. Three grim-looking Sons in similar black coats. Kellan, Eric, and Finn.
“Uh, hey. Who died?” I asked. Then worry set in, because who fucking knew. “Wait, did someone die?”
“Who is it, love?” West called.
“The Three Stooges!” I hollered back.
“We need to speak in private,” Finn told me. “Let’s go to my car.”
What the—
“Oh—hello.” West joined us and put a hand on my lower back. “Why do I get the feeling you’re not here to wish us a happy Thanksgiving?”
I swallowed uneasily, and dread crept up my spine. Had something happened? I’d texted with Dad an hour ago, so it had to be Sons-related, in which case it couldn’t be too bad, could it? But to get a personal visit like this—
“You’re welcome to join too,” Finn told West.
“Join what?” West furrowed his brow.
I pushed pause on the unfurling chaos in my mind and turned to him. “Tell Trip we’ll be back in ten.”
Perhaps he sensed the urgency; he didn’t have any follow-up questions. He just headed up the stairs, and I closed the door and went with the others toward Finn’s SUV.
“What’s this about?” I asked.
“The case,” Kellan replied.
Fuck. Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me. Like a flip of a switch, a noose tied itself around my throat, and a million scenarios flew past my eyes. The attackers were already dead, they’d fled to Europe or South America, there was no chance of ever tracking them down, the cops had gotten to them first—
“I’ll wait out here.” Kellan opened the door for the back seat for me, while Finn went around to the passenger’s side, and Eric got in behind the wheel.
West strode quickly toward us as I got in.
“Before we show you this, I wanna be clear about one thing,” Finn told me. “This is not your mother. You hear me? It’s one of the other victims.”
They had footage, didn’t they? I was gonna see a video or something like that. CCTV?
“Okay.” I nodded.
West slid in too, and Kellan closed the door.
I put my hand on his thigh. “They’re gonna show us something—one of the other survivors.”
Eric extended an iPad between the seats and pushed play.
It was dark and grainy, with a lot of motion, as if someone was running or jumping around, so that ruled out surveillance footage. This was someone filming.
“No!” someone shrieked. “Please stop!”
I flinched and went rigid in my seat.
The shadows cleared as the silhouette of a woman was pushed against a dumpster, where a lone light shone down on her.
“Help me!” she screamed.
I gnashed my teeth. I heard heavy breathing on the video, in the background, and—then the video stopped abruptly.
I snapped my stare to Finn and Eric.
“That’s all we have,” Eric said.
Finn pointed at the iPad. “That’s the free preview of a video that’s being sold in a fucked-up corner of the internet. We found two of them, and they’re definitely from our attackers.”
I had no words. This was just… I had no words. Beyond revolting. Nauseating—literally. I swallowed hard as my mouth watered like it did before I had to throw up, and my throat felt too tight.
“So this is a sick game they make money off of,” West said quietly. “One attacks, the other films?”
“They’re wearing bodycams, presumably small ones on their shoulders,” Eric answered. “None of the survivors mentioned seeing any cameras, or that there was more than one man—but considering how the attackers are described, we know they’re taking turns. We think the second one simply keeps an eye out while the assault occurs.”
I flinched again, picturing Mom in one of these videos. They’d found two, but if this was a source of income for these fuckfaces, it was hard to believe they’d go through with some assaults without filming.
How the fuck was I going to keep my distance now? I’d struggled for so long already, always forcing myself to be more aloof and shut off about the search, because if I got too close, I’d fucking lose it. And now my brain wanted to spin. I wanted to know if they picked women like my mom because they were simply an easier target. A little older, a little weaker because of their size, less resistance for easy money to sell videos…?