Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 84929 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 425(@200wpm)___ 340(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84929 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 425(@200wpm)___ 340(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
I stared out of the kitchen window, still clutching the pendant. A flash of white-blond hair had rounded the property and stopped behind the fence. As he took a step closer, his face came into view: Phil Faulkner. He seemed to be glancing up at something. My window? I knew he lived close by, but I’d never seen him loitering around the neighborhood before. Could he be the guy watching my window? What was his deal?
His eyes moved down toward the kitchen window, where he caught my gaze. He was holding something in his hand but from my vantage point I couldn’t see what it was. He hastily turned and hurried away. And then I saw what he was carrying: a fishing rod. The pathology report had said the victims were strangled with a wire. What if it was a fishing line?
I debated whether or not to follow him when Devon walked into the kitchen, carrying an empty platter. It was the same one I’d seen piled high with steaks and spareribs in the living room just a few minutes ago. “Do lots of people go fishing in this area?”
He opened the fridge and piled up even more meat on the tray. “Many people do. The lake is a good fishing ground.”
I frowned at the pile of meat. Dimples dented Devon’s cheeks when he noticed me staring, and his eyes had a mischievous glimmer in them.
“Don’t tell me you want to barbecue them,” I said, following him through the living room and out into the backyard, where a pillar of smoke rose into the sky.
“Dad asked me to take his place for this round,” Devon said as he loaded the grate with steaks the size of dinner plates. The meat sizzled when it touched the hot surface and a new wave of smoke bubbled up into the air.
“But Mom’s already taken the cake into the dining room. I thought it was time for dessert.” I mean, the hungry bunch had already eaten half a cow at least.
Devon turned the steaks with barbecue tongs. “Maddy. A Chambers barbecue isn’t over until every piece of meat has been cooked and gobbled down.”
Oops, that seemed like something I should have known.
“What’s up with Uncle Scott’s facial hair?”
Devon grinned and suddenly I could breathe again. “You mean his porn-stache?”
I laughed and so did he. So much in fact that he didn’t notice how his hand was inching dangerously close to the hot grate. I opened my mouth to warn him but it was too late. His hand bumped against the barbecue. He jerked it back, dropping the tongs and letting out a hiss of pain.
My stomach plummeted. Burn wounds could be ugly, and this would be bad. Devon cradled his hand against his chest and bent down to pick up the tongs as if he was going to keep right on grilling. I wrestled them out of his grip. “Let me see your hand.”
He turned away, his shoulder forming a shield between us. “It’s nothing, Maddy. I didn’t even touch the grate.”
“Don’t be stupid.” I gripped his arm and pulled his hand back toward me. I turned it around but the skin was only a bit red, as though nothing had happened at all.
He pulled away and took the barbecue tongs, resuming his work. “I told you it was nothing. I was just startled. I barely touched it.”
Had my eyes played a trick on me? Maybe he hadn’t really touched the grill. But I could have sworn I’d seen it happen. Seen him grimace in pain.
Ronald poked his head out of the backdoor. “Are the steaks done? Uncle Scott’s moved on to his sheep jokes. I’d be great if we could get him busy chewing again.”
I raised my eyebrows at Devon for an explanation. He smirked. “Don’t ask. Believe me, you don’t want to know.”
It was almost midnight when the last visitors left. I felt drained from all the happiness and the knowledge that it was fleeting. Soon I’d have to exit this world and leave only darkness in my wake, when Linda and Ronald would learn the truth about their daughter’s death.
Once the lights were turned out, I crept down the stairs and tiptoed into the garage. I used a small flashlight to illuminate my surroundings. Slowly, I guided the beam over the workbench and the camping equipment. There was nothing suspicious—no knives, no fishing lines, no wire. Relief flooded me. A creak sounded behind me.
“What are you doing?”
I whirled around, my heart thrashing against my rib cage. The beam of the flashlight caught on Devon’s frown and he squinted. I lowered my arm. “I thought you were asleep,” I said.
He peeked over my head into the garage. “You didn’t answer my question.”
“I couldn’t sleep and then I thought I heard a noise and got scared,” I said quickly.