Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 70429 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 352(@200wpm)___ 282(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70429 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 352(@200wpm)___ 282(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
He sucked his teeth, feeling some kind of way about it. “You sure know how to pick ’em, lady!” He stroked his chin, anger welling deep inside. But he wouldn’t let his resentment fester.
“You know I want ’er. You found someone that made me turn my head more than once. You know I am going to keep going after her until I get her, too. She’s a setup. A part of your big ass scheme. I like her voice… how she talks… She’s poetic. Naturally. She’s got the strange sixth sense shit I mentioned, that you’ve got, too. It’s weird, in a sexy way. Like a psychic. She’s good with her hands… oh, don’t I know it.” He chuckled once again. “We had a great night together, so I can’t understand why she doesn’t want to do it again? I mean, I made the woman orgasm at least five times before she left that hotel room. She could barely walk when I turned ’er loose. Certainly, that has to count for somethin’.
“…Oh, I know… maybe this is your way of punishin’ me for killin’ these motherfuckers, huh? Well, Mrs. Florence, they had it comin’. See, this guy here,” he pointed to the computer screen, a fresh cigarette between his fingers, “He killed a lady. Her name was Jaqueline McDaniels. I never forget a name. She disappeared in 1987. Body was never found, but there was blood all over ’er car. This motherfucker was her ex-husband. He had a solid alibi they said, but he actually didn’t. I broke down the evidence and it was all lies. He did it all ’cause she divorced him and had moved on… And this guy right here killed a woman by the name of Terri Rourke. Terri was a prostitute.
“A drug addict. She’d had a hard life. I went to Connecticut for her. This guy liked killin’ sex workers. Terri, though, was special. She was pregnant and he knew it. After he raped her, he stabbed her all over her body. He was an attorney. Nobody suspected him. He hated prostitutes… had a thing against them… mama issues. But little did he know, Terri was tryna get clean for the sake of her baby. She’d even gotten a little apartment and started goin’ to church. Her plan was to turn a few more tricks to get the first month’s rent, and then she was done. He got her before she could give her final goodbye to the street life. What a piece of shit. I figured out what the cops couldn’t—because they’re incompetent and I’m fuckin’ smart. Worst of all, I’m stuck in a country full of gotdamn idiots!
“They’re not intellectually astute. They’re not emotionally intelligent. They’re not book smart. They have no self-control. They are the bottom of the barrel in the brains department. Call me arrogant, I couldn’t care less! It’s fuckery. A shame what this legal system does to folks. I tracked him down and gutted him like the fuckin’ pig that he was!”
He slammed his computer shut, jumped to his feet and began to pace, just like he used to as a child. Howard Jones’, ‘Everlasting Love’ started to play—so many cassettes his mother had collected.
“Hi, Mama.” He smiled, but it quickly faded. He hadn’t called out to her like that in years. What caused such a thing? The music? Mrs. Florence playing with his mind? Could he feel her around him? “…Mama?” he repeated, then swallowed, balling up his fists as he fought tears.
He stormed over to one of his briefcases, and pulled out an adult coloring book featuring old model cars. He also grabbed a handful of crayons he’d brought along with him and sat back down at the desk to color for several minutes. He kept gravitating towards the purple crayon, and that unlocked another memory.
He decided to get up and go over to the box his cousin Noah had given him from Aunt Angel and go through it again. Turning up the music a little, he headed to the master bedroom. He dug inside, finding photos of his family. Aunt Angel, he and Noah playing outside. Photographs of his mama.
He picked up one of the pictures and twirled it between his fingers. She was sittin’ outside, barefoot, holding her guitar. Black hair waving in the wind. Blue eyes that shined like sapphires. He blinked back tears. He dug around a bit more and pulled out a little bag containing what looked like white bits of paper at first but upon closer inspection, he realized they were baby teeth. He removed the little note inside the bag and read it:
Caspian, these are your baby teeth I collected over the years. Two of them you swallowed, so they’re missing forever. I figure if something ever happened to me, you may want these. You were always so happy to find money from the tooth fairy under your pillow. You believed in the Tooth Fairy, the Easter Bunny and Santa for a long time, too. You believed in magic. Love, Aunt Angel.