Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 74457 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 372(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74457 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 372(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
Definitely losing my mind.
Definitely long gone.
“He’s single,” I said slowly. “Lives alone in a nice house. He’s got a dog, though, which is going to be a problem, and I’m guessing a serious security system.”
“What about his practice? He ever alone?”
“Not there, no. It’s full of staff and patients.”
“What about hobbies? Does he go to the gym?”
I shifted in my chair. “I don’t know.”
His eyebrows raised. “What do you mean, you don’t know?”
“I’ve been studying him, but I have a life too.”
“Do you?” He looked away, seemingly distracted. “His house then. We’ll have to do some research and case out the place.”
“I’ve been there. I know where to find it.”
“Good. We’ll go again.” He looked back at me. “How am I going to do it?”
My mouth opened and my jaw worked for a long beat.
The moment had arrived. I’d considered so many different methods of execution: hanging, dismemberment, drowning, knives, clubs, poison. But I kept coming back to a gun, simple and clean and easy.
“I want you to shoot him in the face after he gets a good look at me and I remind him about what he did.”
Jarrod grunted. “I can get a gun. That’ll be fine. I was wondering if you’d prefer something slower.”
I blanched then as the reality of what I was doing threatened to break into my homicidal fantasy. “No, thanks.”
“Whatever you want, freak.” He shoved back from the table. “We’ll talk more details tomorrow. Put together everything you know on the guy and come prepared.”
“Where are you going?”
“Home. I’m fucking starving.” He walked to the door.
I jumped to my feet. “Hold on a second. That piece of paper you have in your bag. How do I know you won’t just use it to fuck me?”
“I could ask you the same thing. It’s called trust, freak.”
“Mutually assured destruction isn’t trust. It’s just a standoff.”
“Either way.” He pulled open the door and left.
I sank back into my head and stared at the ceiling.
The rational side of my brain was screaming for me to back out before it was too late. I could give Jarrod the money for his silence and walk away. I hadn’t crossed the line yet—my life wasn’t over.
I still had a future.
But the rest of me knew the rational side of my brain was a fucking moron.
Whatever was left of me was a broken, withered husk. I knew killing Dr. Silver wouldn’t fix me, but at the very least, it might break my spell of obsession. Without justice to fixate on, maybe I’d be able to find a way to move on with my life.
I’d have work to do. I was a mess, after all.
But there’d be a chance if I didn’t have the knowledge of his continued existence hanging over my head.
If he was dead, I didn’t have to constantly wonder—
Was he doing it to someone else?
Right now, this very second, was he doing something unspeakable to another little girl or boy?
That was why I couldn’t walk away.
The cops wouldn’t do anything. My parents thought I was a liar.
But Jarrod was sick enough to go along with my plan, and I was broken enough to use him as needed.
There was no future. Not for me, not until Dr. Silver was a blood smear and a stain in the past.
5
Jarrod
I got home late after practice with thoughts of Cora still buzzing through my head.
The folded contract was like fire in my backpack. It had the potential to destroy everything and drag her down with me—and the thrill of the risk made my blood sing with excitement.
I liked living on the edge. It was one of the few things that made me feel alive. There was a reason I’d dragged Cora down to the quarry and made her stand there above a three-hundred-foot drop with cold, empty air and balance the only thing between the two of us and final oblivion.
I’d wanted to see if she’d flinch.
She had, but not in the way I’d expected.
This was serious for her. At first, I’d thought it was some kind of game. Maybe it was a prank or a sorority thing. But the more I’d thought about it, the more I’d realized Cora wasn’t playing.
She’d never spoken to me for longer than necessary before that party. We’d been around each other for years, ever since she’d become best friends with my cousin, but she’d never bothered talking to me for more than a few sentences. Probably because she hated me, and with good reason—from her perspective, I was nothing but a monster to Robyn.
If only that were the case, life would be easier.
I stepped in through the back door and lingered in the mudroom. Laundry was piled on top of the dryer—I’d forgotten to unload my clothes again. I heard only silence, and I thought I might be safe as I began to shove my clean stuff into a basket, but an angry shout made me pause on the threshold of the kitchen.