Someone Knows Read Online Vi Keeland

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Dark, Suspense, Thriller Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 87988 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
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“We’ll need clothing. Her favorite dress or outfit, perhaps?”

“Anything else?”

He shakes his head. “I don’t think so. We’ll make sure the church includes the viewing times in their weekly bulletin that goes out tomorrow so their parishioners are aware of your mom’s passing.”

“Great. So drop off clothes tomorrow and then just come at two p.m. on Friday?”

“You and whatever family members you’d like to invite can come at one for a private viewing. We want to make sure you’re happy with the way she looks.”

I lift my purse to my shoulder. “It’ll just be me.”

He nods, steps around his desk, and extends a hand. “Again, I’m very sorry for your loss.”

Out front, I gulp fresh air. How the heck does that guy spend all day in that place? It smells weird, and my chest feels scratchy, like I’m breaking out in a rash. Though outside isn’t much better; it’s thick and soupy. By the time I walk the twenty steps to my parked rental car, my skin is damp with a sheen of sweat. God, I hate how sticky this time of the year gets in Louisiana. Actually, I dislike this place year-round. I’ve been here less than eight hours, and I’m already itching to leave. Maybe I should do it—put this crappy rental car in drive and head north. Don’t stop until I hit Manhattan. But there are things I’m hoping this trip will accomplish, aside from burying my mother. Like rattling my memory, filling in the rest of the missing pieces.

As if on cue following that thought, my phone buzzes from somewhere in my bag. I start the ignition to get the air going before digging it out. Lucas’s name is displayed on the screen, an incoming text. He is definitely a puzzle piece, so I swipe to read.

Lucas: Hey. Heard you’re in town.

How the heck did he know already? Another text follows before I can respond.

Lucas: You went to the Grind for coffee. New owner since we were kids. Higher prices. Still gossip central.

A memory comes back. I’m not sure if it was repressed, or I just had no reason to think about it until now. But it makes me smile.

Elizabeth: Do you still pour an inch of sugar into your coffee cup before filling it?

Lucas: LOL I don’t. I take it black now. Diabetes runs in the family. Do you still drink yours until it’s ice-cold, yet you despise iced coffee?

My smile widens.

Elizabeth: I do.

Lucas: I just wanted to reach out and say I’m sorry about the way I broke the news to you the other night. I should’ve given you a minute, let you wake up first.

Elizabeth: It’s fine. I appreciated that you called instead of a stranger from the hospital.

Lucas: If there’s anything I can do, just let me know. I work three twelves, so after eight tonight, I’ll be off for four days. If you want a shoulder to cry on, ear to bend, drinking buddy . . .

The drinking part sounds like a good idea, though I’m not sure I can wait until eight o’clock tonight. Today already feels like it’s been a week long, and it isn’t even five in the afternoon. But Lucas might be able to unlock some more memories . . .

Elizabeth: Thank you. I appreciate that. It’s been a long day, so I’ll probably go to bed early tonight, and I have some errands to run tomorrow, but maybe we can get together at some point after the services are over? They’re going to be Friday.

Lucas: I’d like that a lot.

A warm feeling spreads through me.

Elizabeth: Okay, great. I’ll text you.

The door to the funeral parlor opens. Kenny Chapman walks out and looks around. Mine is the only car in the parking lot. He lifts a hand to shield his eyes from the sun, gets a look at me, and waves. I guess I’d better go or he’ll be adding a twenty-five-dollar parking surcharge to my bill. I put the car in drive and head home. Well, not home—but to my mother’s house. I’m not looking forward to going inside. Actually, I’m dreading it. But I can’t stall forever. Though I can make a stop, pick up a bottle of wine to take the edge off when I get there, maybe two bottles. I should probably pick up some food, too, but I’m not hungry. The liquor store is on Main Street, the two-block-long strip of stores that cover basic small-town necessities—Laundromat, grocery store, bank, barbershop . . . It’s also diagonally across from Liars Pub. I glance over at the cars in the parking lot on my way in. None look familiar. No red pickup tonight. But as I walk out, two bottles in hand and my head still spinning, I remember something Noah mentioned to me in that bar the last time we were there—the place he goes when he needs to clear his mind. Big Devil Bayou.


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