Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 72074 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 360(@200wpm)___ 288(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72074 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 360(@200wpm)___ 288(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)
“I can go ahead of you if you’re busy,” she says softly. “Help your mom.” I don’t want to freak her out, so I just nod at her and watch her walk from the barn to my parents' house. The minute I see her open the screen door and walk inside, I turn back to my office and call Derek right away while the images load.
“Before you start.” He doesn’t even say hello when he answers. “When we detected this, we weren’t sure if it was an animal or a person.”
“Tell me everything.” The pictures come on screen, and I can see why. The person out there is hugging the trees while he walks from one to the other, so it just looks like a blurred image until you freeze it for one frame and notice his hand on the tree.
“From what I could tell, he was there from three a.m. until five a.m. He stops right at the perimeter where it opens. Right now, I can’t see what he is focusing on, but we are working on trying to clear up the image.” I try not to freak out that he was there while we were sleeping. I watch the screen as it goes from one picture frame to the next. He’s trying to get the lay of the land, I think to myself and make a note to put in some traps.
“Um, hello?” I hear Derek’s voice. “You still there?”
“Yeah,” I say to him. “I want everything locked down tight. If a tree leaf looks suspicious, I want to know about it.”
“Will do,” he says, disconnecting. Looking back at the screen, I notice he has a mark on his hand, almost like a tattoo of sorts. I zoom in, but the image is too grainy, so I send a message to Derek.
Me: He has a tattoo on his hand. Find out what it is.
Derek: Will do.
Getting up, I take the clipboard, jotting down things for them to do. I include notes on the traps I want set, and when I walk into the kitchen ten minutes later, my heart stops but for a totally different reason. Olivia stands beside my mother as she helps her make biscuits. Her hair is piled on top of her head, she has flour on her cheek from her hands, and she just looks so happy. I watch how my mother teaches her, and she follows directions. This is what she deserves, I tell myself. This happiness and these carefree moments are what this woman deserves, and I’ll give them to her as long as I can. “Hey,” she says softly when she sees me standing here watching her. “I’m making biscuits.”
“I can see that,” I say, and then I finally notice that my father has been watching me the whole time.
“Morning,” I say, and he just nods at me. Breakfast is the usual as we talk about the farm and what needs to be done.
“I take it you canceled your business trip?” my father says. Olivia turns to look at me, and I glare at my father. “It’s in two days.”
“What business trip?” Olivia asks, and I want to curse, but I know my mother would not be happy. I also am pissed that with everything going on, I forgot about it.
“Nothing,” I say, my voice tight. Looking down at my plate, I see that Olivia is looking down, too, and I want to kick myself for making her sad.
“Thank you so much for breakfast,” Olivia says from beside me, trying to sound happy, but her tone is flat. I bet if I looked over, she would have a smile on her face that was fake as fuck. “I forgot that I have a call with my boss this morning.” And now I look up and see what I was afraid of seeing. The fake Olivia is back as she smiles at my mother. “I’ll see you later.” She then looks at my father. “Have a great day, Billy.” She turns and walks out of the house, and it’s almost as if I’m glued to my chair. As I watch the door close behind her, I can feel my parents staring at me.
“Ass.” My mother is the first to talk, and when I look at her, she glares at me.
“What in the sam hill are you still doing sitting here when the woman has left?” my father almost shouts.
“What do you want from me?” I finally say, dropping my fork, and it clatters on the plate. “This is your fault.” I point at my father as I get up. “If you hadn’t brought up my business trip.”
“I always thought you had brains to go with your good looks,” my mother says, grabbing her coffee cup and bringing it to her lips.
“She’s leaving,” I now shout louder than I want to. “Eventually, she’s going to leave.”