Total pages in book: 127
Estimated words: 120186 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 601(@200wpm)___ 481(@250wpm)___ 401(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 120186 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 601(@200wpm)___ 481(@250wpm)___ 401(@300wpm)
He failed, though. He didn’t extinguish her completely. She’s still here, looking better than I can ever remember her looking, and she’s not afraid to laugh. I can’t help but wonder as I dip my toast into my egg yolks, what would’ve happened to Allie if she wound up married to that rapist fuck. Would she have ended up shrinking a little bit more every day? A little quieter, a little softer, fading out of her own life like a ghost? It makes me wonder what Elena was like when she was Allie’s age. Could she have imagined what her life would become?
When I’m finished eating, I thank her for the food. “I’d better get through some chores, or else Calder will have my ass.” We have to maintain tighter control over the fences than ever after those rustlers came through. This morning, my job is to check the east pasture.
I need this. Riding out, I breathe the crisp, cold air. There’s a purity to it. I fill my lungs while thin clouds pass in front of the sun, giving the sky a hazy sort of look. I know every acre of this land by heart. I’ve bled on it. I’ve sacrificed for it.
Yet my father didn’t consider me a full Bishop. I don’t want to think about him on a good day like this. He ruined enough good days when he was alive. In a way, he’s like those clouds, hiding the sun and casting shadows when he drifts past my memory.
But he isn’t strong enough to block out the light. Not all the way, not anymore.
I’m just about through with my section of the fence when a buzzing sensation in my pocket snaps me back to reality. To Allie.
Even I can hear the smile in my voice when I answer. “Good morning, little filly.”
“I’m fucked. I’m totally fucked.”
The panic in her tight whisper sharpens my focus. “What happened?”
“Tanner called.” Her whispering has a sort of echoing quality that tells me she’s hiding out in the bathroom or somewhere like that. “He wants me to come down to the station. Like, right away.”
My eyes close as I absorb this. She’s panicking, and we can’t have that. She would hate it if she knew I was thinking about her like a spooked horse, but it makes sense in the situation. The first thing you have to do is make sure they know they’re safe. “I’m sure he only wants to get a statement to put on record. He’s just doing whatever he can to keep Lowry off his back.”
“I still don’t like it.”
That makes two of us. “You’ll go anyway, eventually.”
“On my terms,” she whispers fiercely. “I didn’t even want to go in the first place, but I thought I’d throw everything in Tanner’s face and blame him for not getting anywhere in the investigation. This changes everything.”
“It doesn’t have to.” I keep my voice level and calm as I head for my truck. “When you go, act like you’re relieved somebody’s finally doing something. Like you’ve been waiting to give a statement, and it took him too long to reach out. You can still get the upper hand and sell the whole act.”
Her sigh is shaky. “You think so? Really?”
“I think you can do anything. But you have to keep calm. The guy can barely tell his ass from a hole in the ground, but he’s got sharp instincts. You have to convince yourself and him that you’re desperate for answers and ready to help in any way you can. Got it?”
“Okay.” There’s resolve in her voice now. I’m grateful to hear it, along with what sounds like a door opening. I can imagine her getting up the courage to stop hiding and get ready for her performance. “I think I can do that.”
“I know you can.”
“What about you? You said he wanted to be around when I went to town to talk to Tanner, right?”
“Don’t worry. I won’t leave you hanging.” Besides, this might mean getting a chance to see if anybody else follows her. Like a couple of guys in brand-new clothes, riding around in a scratched truck.
One thing is for sure: Allie should have been an actress.
I’m parked across the street from the sheriff station, waiting for her by the time she comes stomping down the sidewalk with her red hair flying behind her like a warning flag. Sheriff Tanner is waiting for her, too, standing in front of the station with his arms folded and a stern look on his face.
“I wouldn’t want to be you,” I mutter. And I feel that way about him every day. But today? She’s about to put on the performance of her life. I can’t hear her, but I don’t need to. It’s like watching one of those old silent movies. Her body language tells the story. She throws her hands into the air, gestures toward him, then toward the station next to him before pointing a finger at his chest. She’s accusing him of not doing his job.