Total pages in book: 63
Estimated words: 58691 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 293(@200wpm)___ 235(@250wpm)___ 196(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58691 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 293(@200wpm)___ 235(@250wpm)___ 196(@300wpm)
“Get out!” My voice rises.
“Give me five minutes and if you don’t like—”
“I’ll give you three,” I interrupt and draw my gun, aiming at him. At least this way, if anyone sees us, they’ll know I didn’t set this visitation up. I don’t know why I’m giving him any time, but maybe he has some information on my father’s whereabouts.
“My sister is Tina, the one that died in the salon, and Kieran and his brother killed her. I know it, but her husband isn’t talking. I’ve been wanting to take them sons of bitches down for decades but witnesses end up missing or killed. The DeAngelo family is like a game of Jenga, if I can get just one to fall, the whole empire will come tumbling down.”
I don’t say anything, I just hold my aim and wait for him to finish.
“Word down the line is you’re to marry Kieran, if you can get him to open up and confess to a crime, anything. But mostly the one of my sister, I can bring him in and put you, your grandmother, and mom in witness protection. You’ll be out of the game. Done,” he says, his eyes never leaving mine. My arms slowly fall, the gun slipping back into my purse.
I was there that night when the salon was on fire, I know Kieran and his brother are to blame, but you can’t trust cops, FBI, whoever wears a badge. Not when it comes to the likes of us. They offer a small fish a deal and then change the details in hopes of a bigger fish up the ladder.
“Get out,” I reply softly. He leans forward, his hands rubbing his face in irritation.
“Do you really want to be married to that monster?” He raises his voice.
“I said get out!” I aim my gun at him again as he sighs loudly. His hand reaching up to pull the door handle, ejecting the door. He steps out and relief has me sigh loudly.
“Think about it,” he says lastly before shutting the door. Sitting back on my heels, my mind races. My hairline sweating from sitting in a turned-off car in the middle of the summer, or maybe it’s nerves. If I was followed by my family or any DeAngelo and they just saw that fucker in my car, I’ll be executed. Opening my door, I push it open with my heel and get out. Grabbing the nozzle to the gas pump, I let it fill. I’ve only gotten gas a few times since I was old enough to drive, doing something on my own without a helping hand feels invigorating.
Chewing on my nail, I think about Tina and her poor husband. Why did Kieran do that? What could they have owed or done that was so bad it demanded murder?
I can’t believe they want me to marry that asshole. The pump clanks and I pull the nozzle free of the tank, hanging it up and shutting the gas tank.
My heels click amongst the black dirty asphalt, the door ringing when I walk inside the station. I grab some bottles of water and grab some junk food for the road. Twizzlers and Doritos. The cool ranch kind.
I pay, and hurry to my car, locking my doors once inside and squeal the tires trying to get back on 95. My eyes sweep to the GPS, I should arrive in two and a half hours. Glancing in the rearview mirror, I remind myself to keep a close eye on anyone that might be following me. Again.
Hours later, and a deserted creepy road later, I pull up to a rusty mailbox that’s laying halfway in a ditch with no lettering or numbers on it, and the GPS announces through the speakers that I’ve arrived at my destination. The car rocks back and forth as it goes off-road and onto a dirt path, with grass overgrown on either side of the trail. Trees grow in numbers, becoming so thick I can’t see the road behind me anymore. Chills run down my back from the sudden dark isolation. Do they have bears or bobcats in Rhode Island?
Turning a bend, the old cabin comes into view and my eyes light up as a sadness fills my heart. The headlights of the car sweeping across an old tire swing hanging from a giant oak tree. I’m finally here. A place that was just a memory, not a reality. Coming to a stop, I sit in the car looking at the old cabin. Nobody has taken care of it in years. There are sticks and branches on the roof, a window looks broke, and the grass is so tall I fear snakes are lurking close by. Getting out of the SUV, I can smell the lake water and wet grass. A cool breeze sweeps over me and up my neck, I cross my arms as I step to the front door and try the handle. It’s locked and I have no key.