Total pages in book: 142
Estimated words: 136507 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 683(@200wpm)___ 546(@250wpm)___ 455(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 136507 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 683(@200wpm)___ 546(@250wpm)___ 455(@300wpm)
“The girl didn’t mention it, and my server didn’t ask. She knows she’s supposed to every time, but she’s new and …” Matt curses under his breath. “Poor kids just wanted to celebrate. They had gifts for each other and everything. It was sweet.”
“They’re gonna be fine.” I reach across the bar to squeeze his hand. “Everyone’s gonna be fine.”
Matt’s chest heaves with a deep breath, still trying to collect himself. “You done for the week?”
“Yeah. And the next two weeks.” I can’t remember the last time I took that much time off.
“Nice! What do you got planned? Going somewhere hot?”
“No, staying close to home.” Where Logan is. And it’ll be plenty hot. “Reading, crosswords, horse rides, fires.” Sneaking off to Logan’s place under the guise of sorting through decades-old dusty things for donation or trash. It’s a reliable cover story. That’s the reason we gave Annie for rifling through every box. She agreed it’s finally time to let go. And we have been slowly purging the garage of clutter while looking for clues to Jay’s misdeeds, but we’ve also stolen plenty of moments within the safety of Logan’s apartment walls. “What about you?”
“The usual. I’ll be here, and then I’ll head to the cabin for Christmas and Boxing Day.”
“I’ll bet it’s peaceful at this time of year.” I’ve gone ice fishing on the lake a few times with Mike and have always marveled at the silence. You can almost hear the snowflakes as they fall.
“Yeah, it’s …” Something flickers in his gaze. “Yeah. Peaceful.”
And lonely, perhaps. Matt doesn’t seem to have much family—at least none that he mentions. “Maybe Shawna can come visit you there?”
He wipes a cloth over the counter with one hand while collecting a dirty glass with another. “Nah. That fizzled.”
“Oh. When?”
“’Bout a month ago?”
I’d ask what happened but I’m sure I can guess. Matt doesn’t seem like the type to settle down. “How have things been around here? How are you?” Because he looks worn down, tired.
“You know ….” He shrugs.
“I see you got new cameras up. Expensive system?”
“Oh yeah.” He nods. “Out front, out back. I’ve got a new one on the far side too. Plus a few spotlights. Brighten it up back there.” Matt purses his lips. “If only I’d done it sooner.”
We’re all carrying a bit of blame, I want to say. Matt for the cameras. Me for not dragging Holly home by her collar. Even that poor idiot trucker, Jordan Reeves, for feeding teenage girls alcohol and weed in a parking lot in the middle of the night. “What’s the buzz about Holly? What have people around here been saying?”
“Same old garbage.” He studies his hands.
“So, they’re blaming the cops?” It’s what people are doing in the Cold River Facebook group, tagging Dillon as the mayor to “do something,” as if Dillon has control over the investigation or the officers employed, as if he has a magic wand that he can wave to reveal Holly’s whereabouts.
I despise logging in there, but it’s a necessity these days. I lurk under a fake profile to gauge the temperature of the town but also in case an offhand comment might turn into a lead. So far, nothing of use. Just fear-mongering and finger-pointing, with a dash of political nonsense.
Logan’s name has been tossed around more than a few times, the comments bordering on libel, one person going as far as to suggest the police should search the Landry property for Holly’s remains; another one likened their bison ranch to the infamous case of Robert Pickton, the BC pig farmer who fed his victims to his hogs. As if bison behave like pigs. Thankfully, people were quick to correct that idiot.
It’s taken everything in me to stay quiet and maintain my cover.
“So, tell me, how did everyone like those cookies I dropped off last week?” Stan appears then, a half-finished pint in hand, interrupting us before I can push Matt for specifics.
I smile at the friendly face. “They went fast, as always.”
“Good, I’ll let Barb know. She was experimenting for the holidays. Cranberries instead of raisins. She always gets so nervous when she does that. Say, I heard that Chapman kid confessed to sabotaging the Landry property.”
I stifle my sigh. Where there’s a crime, Stan is never far behind. Ever since Holly went missing, the detachment has had its fill of Barb’s cookies almost weekly as Stan digs for details to fill his cup of gossip tea. “He did.” The moment Robbie answered the door and started fidgeting, I knew my hunch was right. His nervous tell grew tenfold as I walked through the evidence Logan and I had found. But it was when I painted a gruesome picture of the kinds of things that could happen if a herd that size broke through the fence that he blurted an admission, as if he couldn’t hold it for another second.