Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 99132 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 496(@200wpm)___ 397(@250wpm)___ 330(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99132 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 496(@200wpm)___ 397(@250wpm)___ 330(@300wpm)
He wiped blood from his face, his fingers trembling. The darkness thickened, swallowing the world until nothing was left but pain and rain and the certainty that something was closing in.
He took another step.
And then another.
Because death wasn’t going to take him without a fight. Yet as he fell between a couple of thick trees, unable to move, a hysterical humor took him. It wasn’t the first fight he’d lost . . . but apparently it would be the last.
In her conference room, Laurel finished straightening the pictures and connected lines on the case board. So far, she had Dr. Miriam Liu, Larry Scott, and Melissa Palmtree from Oakridge Solutions on one board with Dr. Liu connected to Tyler Griggs because of the lesions on their brains. Off to the side, she taped a picture of Dr. Sandoval, even though he’d been killed by the sniper. She’d obtained a picture of Dr. Bertra Yannish from social media and taped her picture up as well. Perhaps she’d earned a promotion from the death of Dr. Liu.
The next board showed Laurel’s face with sniper eyelines, a description of the truck, and a list of former cases she needed to examine closer.
The final board had Abigail’s case on it, usually flipped over so Norrs couldn’t see it.
Laurel sat on the Formica table and stared at the Oakridge Solutions board. “Nester? Have you found out anything about Melissa Palmtree?” Hopefully she hadn’t been cremated like Larry Scott had. Not that Laurel had any proof their deaths were related to Dr. Liu’s.
“Yeah. She was buried outside of Bellevue.” Nester crossed into view, leaning against the doorjamb. Today he wore black slacks and a white button-down shirt rolled up at the sleeves, revealing dark and muscled forearms.
Laurel blew out air. “Start an application to have her body exhumed, would you? It’s a long shot, I know. I’ll create my own affidavit, but we’ll need one from Dr. Ortega as well. Thanks.”
“Sure.” Nester turned and headed back to his computer room.
Kate called down the hallway. “Sandra Plankton is here to see you.” She led the way down the hallway and gestured the young woman into the conference room.
“Thanks, Kate.” Laurel hopped off the table, flipped the boards over to reveal the clear sides, and gestured for Sandra to sit.
Sandra dropped into the chair across from Laurel, her posture more defiant than polite. She couldn’t have been more than twenty, her hair wild and tangled around her shoulders. There was a washed-out T-shirt stretched over her slight frame, the graphic faded but still readable: STOP KILLING THE PLANET! The lettering was half-obscured by her threadbare flannel shirt, sleeves rolled up unevenly. “Nice table.”
“Thanks. It’s temporary.” Laurel pulled out a chair and sat.
Ripped jeans and scuffed hiking boots completed Sandra’s look. Her skin was pale, her eyes rimmed red, like sleep hadn’t found her in days. She didn’t wear any makeup, but her expression appeared fierce.
Walter stepped into the conference room and tugged a chair his way to sit.
“Ms. Plankton,” Laurel said. “Thank you for coming in.”
Sandra huffed out a breath. “I didn’t have much of a choice, did I?” Her voice had a rough, scratchy edge, like she’d been yelling recently or maybe just not speaking at all. She dropped a battered messenger bag onto the table and dug inside it. A moment later, she slapped a flash drive down on the table, its plastic case scratched and dirty. “I was gonna try to find you, anyway.”
“What’s this?” Walter eyed the light blue drive.
“I went through Tyler’s fishing gear,” Sandra said. “He kept stuff everywhere. Like, everywhere. I found this hidden in the pocket of his tackle box.”
Laurel took the drive. “You didn’t give it to the police?”
“No.” Sandra’s chin lifted. “The local cops are on the recordings. I didn’t know who I could trust.”
“What exactly is on there?” Laurel asked, her interest piqued.
Sandra swallowed, her shoulders hunching just slightly. “There are several unreleased podcasts. One about gasoline pipelines, a couple about conspiracies, and one about corrupt cops.”
Walter’s mouth tightened, but he didn’t speak.
“The final one . . .” Sandra hesitated. “He sounded scared but determined to find answers about some possible attack coming soon. Tyler believed that true evil was around us and that we’re all in danger. He was still looking for evidence. I don’t know, man.”
Walter eyed her. “What kind of attack?”
She shrugged. “I have no idea, but I can tell you he was really scared.”
Walter leaned forward. “Why didn’t you come forward with this sooner?”
Sandra’s gaze shot to him. “I just found this yesterday, and like I said, the next podcast that was supposed to drop was almost finished, and it was about those cops. But the last one? That one I could tell. Tyler was seriously freaked out.” Tears filled her eyes. “I miss him so much.”