Total pages in book: 19
Estimated words: 19570 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 98(@200wpm)___ 78(@250wpm)___ 65(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 19570 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 98(@200wpm)___ 78(@250wpm)___ 65(@300wpm)
I take a breath.
“Just tell me two things.”
He nods once.
“One—why did you help me so much with divorcing him?”
“Because I knew you could do a lot better.”
I swallow.
“And if he owed you that much money… why did you let him live?”
His eyes soften, a smile tugging at the edge of his lips.
“I saw you.”
Silence.
“Anything else?” he asks.
“No,” I say. And I mean it. Nate is behind me. Everything I need is here.
“I hate to interrupt this lovely Hallmark moment…” Chester walks onto the plane, but he doesn’t shoot me a dagger like usual. His expression is soft, understanding even.
“We have an early window to end things with you-know-who once and for all, and we need to take it,” he says to Ryder. “Now. Me and you, via another jet that’s on its way. Miss Jane can’t come.”
Ryder sighs, looking at me. “It’ll be different after this,” he says. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.” I nod. “I understand.”
He shoots me a slight smile before standing.
“Where are those new trackers your FBI friend gave you?”
“I thought you handled her FBI friend while you were here…” Chester says. “Or did you make a last-minute change?”
“I’m about to handle her now.” He’s still looking at me. “Where are the trackers, Autumn?”
“Back at my parents’ house,” I say. “They’re still unopened on the kitchen counter.”
“Send someone to get those,” he says to Chester—making him immediately disappear.
Then he moves closer to me, tilting my chin up with his fingertips.
“I need you to help me with one last job, Miss Jane,” he says. “But this one will be very beneficial to you as well.”
“I’ll have to consider it.” I feign defiance. “How much will I be paid?”
“It’ll be a very rewarding package,” he says. “Are you up to it?”
“Absolutely.”
End of Episode 10.1
Preying Softly
EPISODE 11
Grace Poole
Watching Edward Rochester is like watching a shadow dance in the night. I catch glimpses of him occasionally—whenever he lingers too close to dawn, but his moves are always fast and sharp as I close in.
It’s been nearly impossible for years, so his case has stalled in a frustrating limbo at the agency.
Since the fire at his mansion during a lavish party—no doubt set on purpose—I’ve been collecting bits and pieces, trying to see where they fit.
I have bits and pieces of the Rochester empire—this decades-old underground game that operates in the grey with syndicates that stretch like spider webs up and down the coast.
Every person is terrified to speak against him. More willing to spend decades in a cramped cell than utter a single syllable in his name.
He’s never made a single misstep… until Autumn Jane.
Until now…
Armed with everything I need, I pull into the parking lot at Puget Sound Physical Rehabilitation Center.
I flash my badge at the desk and head straight to room 425, where Nate Taylor is sitting on a bright blue rubber ball.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Taylor,” I say. “Feel like talking today?”
“If I say ‘no’ will you leave me alone, or just keep firing off questions like the last time?”
“It’s best if you just say ‘yes,’ so I can get this over with.”
“Yes…” He groans, lifting his foot. “What do you need from me?”
“Do you know this man?” I show him a picture of Edward Rochester and his face immediately pales.
“No.”
“Lying to a federal agent is a crime, Mr. Taylor.”
“I don’t know him,” he says. “I’ve only seen him.”
“So, you’re into semantics, too.” I roll my eyes. “Where have you seen him before, and why?”
“I feel a cramp in my leg coming on,” he says. “Nurse! Nurse!”
I kick the ball from under him, sending him to the floor. Then I rush over to the door and lock it shut.
“I only have five minutes before I have to be elsewhere,” I say, ignoring his moans. “So, I suggest you suck it up and answer my questions so I can leave.”
“Fine…” He sits up, glaring at me in pain. “I owe him some money.”
“Some?”
“Millions.”
“Why?”
“That’s none of your business,” he says. “It’s a personal arrangement.”
“Was your ex-wife involved in that? Is that how she got caught up in this?”
“Caught up in what?” He looks at me like I’m crazy. “Autumn doesn’t know shit about my personal finances—or finances in general. I bet she can’t even balance a fucking checkbook.”
I’ll come back to that topic later… “Tell me a bit more about your ex-wife. Her name is Autumn Jane, correct?”
“Correct. What about her?”
“Have you ever known her to get involved in anything illegal?”
“Autumn?” He sucks in a slow breath, and I wait for him to spill, but then he laughs. Uncontrollably.
Nearly wheezing, he leans back against the rubber ball—still laughing as if I’m a comedian.
“Mr. Taylor, I need you to take these questions seriously.”
“My ex-wife is one of the weakest and most naïve women I’ve ever known,” he says. “She’s not capable of committing anything except being annoying.”