Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 78227 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78227 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
“Do you think I care? You think I want either of you involved in anything?” His knuckles whiten around the steering wheel. “Hell, I don’t even know what it is. But the way you’re talking, the way you’re clenching your hands together, the way all the color is drained out of your face, Rory. It’s bad. It’s fucking bad.”
What can I say? He’s right.
It’s bad.
It’s worse than bad. It goes so far beyond bad I can’t even describe it.
Jesse checks his GPS. “This is the town, coming up. We’re going to get checked into the hotel and then get some lunch.”
“Like I could eat,” I say.
“Yeah, I’m not too hungry either.”
“But the band, Jesse. We have to act normal for the band.”
“How the hell have you been acting normal all this time?” Jesse asks me.
“I haven’t known about this other stuff for very long. But the whole Pat Lamone thing has been hanging over my head for a while. Haven’t you noticed that Callie and I haven’t eaten much lately?”
“I don’t notice how much a person eats,” Jesse says.
“Because you’re too busy guzzling food yourself.”
“You want to go there, Rory? You want to insult me right now?”
I sigh. “No, I don’t want to go there. I’m sorry. But sometimes Callie and I just have to find something to laugh about. Because if we don’t, we won’t be able to exist.”
“God, everything you guys have been dealing with, and then Dad’s heart attack on top of it all.”
“No kidding. But at least he’s going to be okay.”
“I know.” Jesse rakes his fingers through his long hair. “Thank God.”
We pull into the small town of Furbish, Utah. Jesse roams through the streets until he stops at a small motel.
“This is it.”
“The Sundown Inn?” I say. “Sounds kind of…creepy.”
“It has good reviews on Yelp. If it turns out to be creepy, take it up with Jake. He’s the one who books our stays.”
“I’m sure it’s fine.”
“Not that it matters,” Jesse says. “We’ll only be sleeping here.”
“Yeah.”
Except that doesn’t help me at all. There are probably holes in the walls where peeping toms check out women.
And I’m a peeping tom’s wet dream.
Jesse pulls into a parking spot, and we scramble out of the car. I look around. The van should be arriving any minute.
Sure enough, five minutes later, the van rumbles into the parking lot.
Cage is driving, and he brings it to a halt. He and the two others exit the van.
“You check us in yet, Jesse?” Cage asks.
“Nope. We just got here ourselves. Let’s do it.”
Jesse and Cage go into the office to check us in while I stand next to Jesse’s car, my hands shoved in my jeans pockets, leaning against it for support.
Time to put on my game face.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
BROCK
“Explain what?” Doc asks. “This is how I’ve been paid. They were very clear that I needed to keep the same lifestyle I always had. Not to look like I’d come into money. So I only sold one of the jewels, and Brittany and I have been living on that plus my income.”
“This ring,” I say. “We’ve seen it before.”
“You have?” Doc raises his eyebrows.
“On Callie Pike’s finger, Doc,” I say. “Like my dad said, it belonged to my grandmother. How the hell did you get it?”
Doc swipes his hand across his forehead. “My God, Jonah, could you please take the gun off me for one second? I’ve cooperated fully. I’ve told you all I know, and I’ve shown you how I’ve been paid. What else can I do for you?”
“This gun’s not going anywhere,” Dad says, his voice even lower than normal.
“Then I’m at a loss.” Doc wipes at his forehead again. “I don’t have anything else to tell you. Anything else to show you.”
My mind races. We have the original ring—which Donny had appraised and traced to our grandmother—and we have the duplicate that Donny had crafted for Callie. So where the hell did this one come from? That ring was one of a kind. Yet we somehow have three of them?
I hold the ring up to the light. I’m no jeweler, but it’s flawless and brilliant.
“We need to have this looked at,” I say.
“Yeah, we need to have all of this stuff looked at,” Dad agrees.
I try to read the engraving on the inside of the band, but I don’t see anything. But that could be because I don’t have a jeweler’s loupe and there isn’t any good lighting inside the kennel.
I don’t even know what I’m looking for other than LW. Maybe a mark on the metal for gold or something?
“You won’t mind, Doc,” Dad says, “if we confiscate all this stuff and have it checked out?”
“How can I mind? You’ve got a fucking gun to my head, Joe.”
Dad, who’s been icy cold this entire time, finally cracks a smile. Albeit a small smile.