Total pages in book: 47
Estimated words: 47525 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 238(@200wpm)___ 190(@250wpm)___ 158(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 47525 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 238(@200wpm)___ 190(@250wpm)___ 158(@300wpm)
“Okay.” I suck in a deep breath as he tightens the wrap around my wrist.
“Good girl,” he says, looking deep into my eyes. “Here are the final three rules while we’re locked in this cabin…”
“One: Don’t ever lie to me. Two: If you step out of line again, I’ll take that as a sign that you don’t believe in what I’m doing, and I’ll remain on my side until your stay is finished.”
“And three?” I draw a slow, unsteady breath as he presses his thumb against my bottom lip.
“Stop tempting me to fuck you, especially when the cameras are rolling.”
“I haven’t—”
“In the shower,” he says. “You moan my name in the shower when you’re touching yourself.”
“I didn’t realize…” I can feel all the blood rushing from my face. “I thought the cabin was soundproof.”
“From the outside.”
“I thought no one could see me.”
“They can’t, but you wanted me to, right?”
Silence.
I want to tell him he’s wrong—that I wasn’t moaning for him, but we’d both know I was lying.
He pulls his fingers off my skin one by one, as if he knows—I know, too—that if I told him I won’t say a word, he’d cross the line and fuck me in a heartbeat.
I’d happily let him.
“Glad we’re back to our scheduled program.” He stands up from the couch and holds his phone to his ear.
“Yes, Dr. Weiss?” a loud male voice says. “Are you alright?”
“I’m fine, Sheldon. The password is—” He pauses, looking at me like he’s worried I’ll use it. “It’s the year we hosted the hummingbird study plus two hashtags plus ‘OLI’ in uppercase and ‘pc’ in lowercase. You can roll the monitors via live feed now.”
“You mean live for us, but still the delay for everyone else, or live for all?”
“The former.”
“Will do. That was quick and impressive behavioral work with Miss Pretty, sir. You know, one of the things I love about—”
Dr. Weiss stuffs his phone into his pocket while the guy continues speaking.
He looks like he wants to say something to me, like he wants to stay here on my side a little while longer, but he shakes his head and walks away.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, Sadie.”
13
SADIE
Back “then”…
Flash! Click-click! Flash!
An officer snaps a few final pictures of my blood-soaked hands before escorting me into an empty interrogation room.
Thankfully, he was nice enough to let me slip out of my clothes hours ago, but he only offered a paper poncho in exchange. He claimed they didn’t have any available sweatpants.
I rock back and forth for what feels like forever, watching the hands tick by on the clock above the door.
After two hours, the door finally opens, and a detective joins me inside.
“Here you go, Miss Pretty.” He sets a cup of hot coffee in front of me. “Sorry about the wait. I did manage to make this exactly how you requested, though: lots of whipped cream and caramel drizzle.”
“Thank you very much.” I take a grateful sip.
“Before we get started, allow me to read you your rights.”
“My rights?” I tilt my head to the side. “Am I in trouble?”
“You have the right to remain silent,” he continues talking. “Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney, you may also…”
I’ve listened to enough True Crime podcasts to know the Miranda rights like the back of my hand, but I’m confused as to why he’s reading them to me and not the actual murder suspect.
I’m just a witness…
“Alright, Miss Pretty.” He taps his notebook. “Would you like to continue talking to me without a lawyer?”
“Yes, absolutely.”
“Want to tell me what happened this afternoon?”
“An old classmate of mine was selling some artwork online, but I saw that one of the pieces actually belonged to me, and I wanted it back.”
“You’re referring to Jonathan Baylor?”
“Yes.” I nod.
“Were you friends or associates?”
“Neither. I hadn’t spoken to him in years…” I swallow. “But I figured since he was in town and he said it was an ‘open invitation to anyone who went to our high school’ that I could stop by to ask about getting it back.”
“You were two days late for the party, Miss Pretty.” He narrows his eyes. “The party was on Friday. You showed up on a Sunday.”
“I rang the doorbell like ten times.” I wave off his correction. “No one answers and I knew he had a pool, so I assumed he probably couldn’t hear me outside.”
The officer arches a brow.
“I knocked as hard as I could and then I waited for like fifteen minutes before twisting the doorknob and letting myself inside. When I made it to the living room, I found them dead, called 9-1-1, and here we are.”
He blinks.
“Oh, and at some point, I took a shower,” I say. “I can’t remember if that was before or after I found them, though. I, uh, walked by the master bathroom suite and couldn’t resist.”