Total pages in book: 49
Estimated words: 45821 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 229(@200wpm)___ 183(@250wpm)___ 153(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 45821 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 229(@200wpm)___ 183(@250wpm)___ 153(@300wpm)
“You haven’t told me what happened,” he reminded her.
“I have an ex-husband. My marriage was ugly and the divorce even worse,” Cynthia tried to explain.
“And he has some kind of hold over you?” Dirk probed.
“He doesn’t, but his brother does,” she admitted. “Stan, my ex, is in jail. Not only did he treat me like dirt, he stole money from his parents’ restaurant and they prosecuted him. That’s where I learned how to cook. Stan was awful, but his parents loved me. I think I married him to be related to them.”
“Belinda reported talking to you in the green space prior to the event. She said you were visibly upset and shared that someone had maneuvered you to do something you didn’t want to do,” Dirk shared.
She had a moment’s reprieve from his perceptive gaze when the microwave beeped and he had to trade dinners inside. When he turned back to look at her, Cynthia swallowed hard and asked, “Are you going to try to help me? Mr. Edgewater seemed to think that you would be able to convince the jury that I was coerced to load that program onto the computer.”
“Easton has asked me to represent you. I’ll tell you what I told him. I’m good, but my specialty isn’t as a defense attorney. I could find you a very skilled defense attorney,” he suggested.
“One who you would obliterate in the courtroom,” she said.
“Probably. The case seems very black and white. You were working in the manager’s office. You were the only one there with access. That is where access occurred for the cyberattack. You ran when questioned. You were observed prior to the attack visibly upset, and volunteered that someone made you do something you didn’t want to do.”
Beep!
That strident sound seemed to tell her that time was up. Cynthia watched him stir the potatoes in each container before placing them both back into the microwave. This time, when he turned around again, she couldn’t look at him. Focusing on the table, she wiped away the tear rolling down her cheek and then pushed her wet hair back as if a rivulet of water had escaped from the towel. She didn’t want him to know she was crying.
“Sounds like I don’t have a chance either way. Mr. Edgewater said you would take me to the police station. I can walk there,” Cynthia volunteered, standing up.
“It’s pouring out there. Sit down and drink your milk,” he suggested. “I’ll drive you when we’ve both had a chance to fill our bellies.”
Cynthia was so tired. She hadn’t slept more than a few hours at a time since she’d left the Edgewater campus after following the instructions that had appeared on her phone. Nodding, she dropped back into the chair. Doing what someone told her to do was easier than trying to think for herself.
Maybe he’d believe her if he saw the message. For some reason, it was important to Cynthia that he at least thought she wasn’t a horrible person. “Could I charge my phone? There’s a message on it from my brother-in-law. Maybe if you saw it, you might consider that I’m not the awful person you think I am.”
A clink of the glass on the table alerted her he was near. Panicking, she looked up. Automatically, her body leapt to full alert. She wrapped her arms around her backpack to keep her possessions safe.
“You’re safe, Cynthia. I’m sorry I scared you. I’ll try to clomp around more so you’ll know where I am.”
“It’s your house. You get to be anywhere you want.” She tried to laugh off her immediate alarm.
“Drink your milk.” The microwave beeped, and he moved away to pull the meals from the device.
“Let this cool a bit. Don’t burn your mouth,” the handsome, professional man instructed as he set the steaming meal before her.
Did she hear a bit of warmth that hadn’t been in his voice before? Leaning away from the delicious aroma of the food, she asked, “Can I charge my phone? You know… to show you the message.”
“Plug it in here,” he suggested, pointing to an outlet at the end of the kitchen island.
Immediately, she pulled open the top zipper and dipped her hand inside. Stroking over the tattered fur inside, she didn’t allow herself to linger, but dug to the bottom to find her dead phone and charger. Careful to disguise the only other thing inside, Cynthia re-zipped the backpack and walked quietly to the place he’d indicated to plug in her phone.
With a whispered thanks, Cynthia slid back into her chair and bowed her head over the food. Just as her mother-in-law had taught her years ago, she silently whispered her prayers, thanking God for the shelter from the weather, the hot food, and cold milk. Chocolate milk, she corrected herself. Somehow, focusing on any small kindness made her situation seem less dire.