Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 104350 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 522(@200wpm)___ 417(@250wpm)___ 348(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104350 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 522(@200wpm)___ 417(@250wpm)___ 348(@300wpm)
Dante nodded. “We are.”
That fact alone seemed to be enough to make Sawyer drop his guard. “What do you want to know?”
“Do you know of anyone with a grudge against the ravens in your age-group?”
“Only Wade. I’m sure Riley told you what it was like for him growing up.”
“She did,” Dante confirmed. “If someone is targeting the few of you who didn’t attend the party, it would suggest that they feel Wade’s actions were justified and that his job was left undone. It could even be that someone gave Wade a little push in that direction four years ago.”
Sawyer’s look was doubtful. “Shirley believes the latter, but that’s only because it’s hard for her to accept that Wade did what he did. But though Wade was a lot of things, he wasn’t weak. Peer pressure never worked on him. And he was a smart kid. If someone had been trying to brainwash him into doing something so against his nature, he would have seen it.”
“Did anyone seem especially eager for you to be at the party that night?”
Sawyer pursed his lips. “No.”
“Did anyone try to persuade you not to go?”
Sawyer seemed surprised by the question. “Cynthia tried to lure me to her house that night. She’d heard Riley and I broke up.”
Dante’s brow lifted. “Did you go to Cynthia’s?”
“No, I went looking for Riley. She’d already left.”
Dante was quiet for a moment. “You allegedly spent a lot of time with Wade before the shootings. Shirley says she found it strange, since you weren’t friends.”
“Riley was worried about him.”
“You thought helping him would impress her?” asked Jaime. “That it might make her go back to you?”
“Maybe, but then I saw just how right she was to be worried,” said Sawyer. “He’d lost a lot of weight, he wasn’t taking care of his hygiene, and there was no drive in him—no motivation to even get out of bed. And he had all these drawings in his room.”
Dante cocked his head. “What kind of drawings?”
“They were dark and violent,” said Sawyer. “Pictures of demon-type monsters, like something out of a nightmare. He only ever used the colors black and red. I asked him about them. He said the demons talked to him; they wanted blood. I thought he meant his own blood—that he had some kind of inner demon he couldn’t face and he wanted to hurt himself.”
“Did you tell anyone?” Jaime asked.
“I told Shirley. She didn’t see how him drawing dark pictures meant anything was wrong. She said he’d suffered from nightmare disorder since he was a kid and he’d always drawn the things he’d seen in the dreams, that I was making a fuss about nothing.” Sawyer sighed. “I listened to her, and now he’s dead, and so are a bunch of other people. I have to live with that.”
After a short pause, Jaime spoke. “Shirley said somebody used to text him a lot back then. Was that you?”
“Yes,” replied Sawyer. “I liked to check on him, see how he was. I’ll admit it, it started out as me trying to impress Riley. But when I realized how bad his situation was, when I realized how little I’d done over the years to defend this person, I felt like shit about it and wanted to help him.” He shrugged. “But I couldn’t,” he added grimly. “None of us could.”
As she and Ryan reached Cynthia’s cabin, Makenna sighed. She really wasn’t looking forward to talking to this bitch, but it had to be done. Her mostly mute mate certainly wasn’t going to do it, and that was for the best, since he wasn’t exactly a people person. “Please try to refrain from grunting at her. I don’t want to give her an excuse to shut the door in our faces.”
Ryan, of course, grunted.
“I don’t want to be near her either, so let’s just get it over with.” Stepping onto the porch, Makenna knocked on the door.
Cynthia opened it a crack, eyes narrowed. “I’m not answering any of your questions, I have nothing to say.”
“Riley said you’d avoid talking with us,” Makenna lied, “but I said you wouldn’t do anything that would make you look guilty. Not unless you had anything to hide, anyway. Do you?”
Her eyes flared. “No, I do not.”
“But you won’t talk to us,” Makenna pointed out.
Her lips flattened. “I don’t have to.”
“In your position, I’d want to know who shot my sister and see them pay. And I’d accept all the help I could get.”
Cynthia hesitated, seeming torn.
“We just have a few questions.” Makenna’s tone was steady and friendly. “It won’t take long.”
With a sigh of impatience, Cynthia opened the door a little wider. “I firmly believe that the person who shot my sister is not part of this flock. Everyone here likes Lucy.” The latter was said with a note of envy. “We were all scarred by what happened four years ago. None of us would wish to see it happen again.”