Total pages in book: 171
Estimated words: 162003 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 810(@200wpm)___ 648(@250wpm)___ 540(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 162003 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 810(@200wpm)___ 648(@250wpm)___ 540(@300wpm)
I heard him sigh as he padded away, and the click of the front door a few moments later. It resounded through the apartment like the sound of a prison door shutting. Closing me in. Because that’s where I was. Imprisoned in a game where I didn’t know the rules. Where I didn’t know who to trust anymore. Where I lost everyone I ever loved.
I was still feeling sorry for myself an hour later when Nicole popped her head in and surprised me.
“What is all this?” she asked as she stepped inside.
I hadn’t told her I was sewing because I’d been too wrapped up in my emotions to have a real conversation with anyone.
“It’s just a place for me to putter around,” I said.
“This is really cool…” Her voice faltered when her eyes fell on the black sewing machine in front of me. For a moment, she looked like she was in pain.
“Nicole?”
She straightened her spine and walked back towards the door. “I brought you some dinner.”
“Oh.” I blinked. “Thanks?”
“Ryland told me to,” she admitted. “But I wanted to check on you myself and see how you were doing.”
I stood up and folded up the piece I’d been working on, deciding I’d punished it enough for one evening.
I followed Nicole out to the breakfast bar and sat down as she pulled out containers of Sushi. She handed me one, and I chewed through a California Roll in record time, not tasting a single thing.
“I don’t know what to do,” I blurted, my eyes burning with unshed tears. “I can’t handle this anymore, Nicole. There are things I want to tell you…”
Her eyes widened, and she coughed as she took a drink of water.
“But I can’t,” I went on. “Or at least, I’m not supposed to.”
She weighed my words carefully before reaching her hand towards me.
“Brighton, there are things I want to tell you too…”
Ryland’s home phone rang out, scaring the hell out of both of us. I’d never even heard it ring before. He usually handled everything on his cell phone.
“He must have diverted his calls here by accident,” Nicole said nervously.
I let it ring out, six times in total before the machine picked up. A shrill voice came on the other line, echoing through the apartment.
“I’m a little short this month,” Norma-Jean blared through the speaker. “I’ve got my son home now, so I need some of next month’s payment in advance.”
She sniffed into the phone, her voice growing more agitated and desperate by the moment.
“I need it now. It’s real important that I get it now,” she persisted. “Or I might have to ask Brighton, and you wouldn’t want that would you?”
There were muffled noises and a click before the dial tone sounded.
I stood up and ran to the machine, and Nicole gave me a worried glance. I pressed the button, trying to get a playback, but the machine kept asking me for a security code.
“She said my name,” I stated, as though I needed confirmation from Nicole. “That was my mother, and she called here for Ryland. Because she said my name.”
My words weren’t coming out how I wanted or needed them to, but Nicole understood. She walked over and pulled me into her arms. She let me hug her back, using her strength to support me as I tried to understand what this meant.
“Why is he giving my mother money?” I mumbled. “I don’t understand.”
I paced back and forth across the kitchen while Nicole watched me wearily. She wasn’t asking me any questions, and I didn’t know why. I needed her to ask me questions. I needed her to help me make sense of this mess.
But then it dawned on me. The one place I knew for sure had the information I wanted. And it was sitting in a house on Belvedere Island.
I rushed to the box in the kitchen where Ryland kept his spare keys, checking each label before I found the ones I needed.
“What are you doing?” Nicole asked.
“I’m going to Belvedere Island,” I replied. “I’m going to get the answers I need.”
***
I figured I had another hour before Ryland questioned my whereabouts. It took me thirty minutes just to get to the house.
The keys on the key ring opened the front door without any resistance. But when I raced up to the third floor and wiggled them in the first door I came to, nothing happened. I tried to ignore the cold chill that moved up my spine as the lights flickered along the corridor, highlighting the eery atmosphere on this level of the home.
I thought about trying to break the knob or pick the lock, but it wasn’t one of my skill sets. So with a resigned sigh, I walked back to the second level, clenching my fingers together as I glanced around Ryland’s room. I went through the nightstand and the dresser, turning up nothing useful. But then I remembered his home office.