Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 85228 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 426(@200wpm)___ 341(@250wpm)___ 284(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85228 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 426(@200wpm)___ 341(@250wpm)___ 284(@300wpm)
The cool air does nothing to stop the burn on my skin.
I had planned to wait until a decent hour to call Casper, but there's no time like the present. The sooner I can get someone on this, the sooner I can walk away and leave Caitlyn Rudd in my past.
I hesitate when I pull my phone from my pocket. Setting shit into motion will happen very quickly once the call ends, and I know from being right beside her that she tossed and turned all night long. I have no doubt that she's terrified of what's to come, worried that the man will hurt her in some way, torturing herself with the idea that he may have already invaded her privacy more than just following her home at some point.
A rustle beside me draws my complete attention, my phone back in my pocket and my gun in hand in the next breath. Any other day, my first thought would be a bear. With the weather warming up during the day, they've been wandering around the cabin more, looking for food.
But with what happened last night, I can't be too careful.
The sun is just barely coming up, the mountain keeping it from view longer here because she's at the base than it would take from our cabin higher up.
I feel like a fool when a fucking squirrel darts out from around her house. That man driving by last night, my sleeping beside her in the same bed, and then the nightmare has me on edge so much I actually nearly pull the fucking trigger.
I stomp my foot, alerting the damn rodent that I'm near so it'll dart away and go cause problems for someone else.
My heart is racing, partly still from the dream but also from the tail-twitching animal.
I tuck my gun away and pull out my phone, dialing Casper's number.
"What's up?" he greets, answering on the first ring, not sounding like I woke him up in the slightest.
"There's a problem," I mutter, pinching the bridge of my nose in an attempt to ease the threat of a headache I can feel pressing outward from the backs of my eyes.
It's going to be a long-ass day. I can already tell.
"I don't think you'd have a problem if you stayed away from her like you were told to do."
The words make me freeze.
"How do you know anything about it? Did Jericho say something to you?"
"You do realize we have cameras in all the house's public areas, right? That includes the pool area."
"And you get your jollies off by listening to other peoples' conversations?" I grumble.
"I'm a thorough investigator," he says, a cheeriness in his tone that makes me wish I could wrap my hands around his throat.
I pull in a deep breath. His diligence will greatly benefit me, but I need to get past what feels like an invasion of privacy first.
"She was in danger," I say, knowing it's part of the truth. "Some piece of shit from the club grabbed her arm last night. She was shaken up. I drove her home."
Silence fills the line as if he's waiting for more of an explanation.
He won't get one from me.
Nothing happened last night between the two of us, and if I can keep my head on right, then what happened here last week will never happen again.
A bird chirps somewhere in the distance, nature and the rest of the world finally waking up.
"Before Lark could show up to get me, that same guy that grabbed her drove by her house."
"You're certain it's him?"
"Same make and model of car, a newer looking Mercedes, dark blue or black. It was hard to tell."
I bend my neck to the side, not feeling an ounce of relief when it cracks, so I do the other side as well.
"I bet you could find out who he is if you—"
"Scott Wilson. He owns one of those themed dinner-and-a-show places on the main drag in town. From the looks of it, it's pretty lucrative, but I bet the IRS doesn't know he's cooking the books. Married, has two adult children. One has a lengthy criminal history, and the other lives out of the country."
"You found that fast," I say. "What's his criminal history?"
"Not much of anything," Casper says, but I can tell by the clicking of keys through the line that he's digging deep to make sure we don't miss anything.
A guy following a woman home and creeping by her house isn't great, but it also doesn't mean the guy is a serial killer or anything either.
"Looks like he had a run-in with the police when he was younger, a kid really. Looks like a minor vandalism, possibly like egging or something. He got community service, and that was it. I imagine there was no major damage. There was no restitution ordered."