Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 70554 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 353(@200wpm)___ 282(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70554 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 353(@200wpm)___ 282(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
Fuck, how long has he been planning this?
Was this what he intended to do with her body from the beginning?
Was this always his fucked-up end game for it?
More churning of my stomach encourages new rounds of vomit to surge up my throat, yet I swallow it.
Force it to stay down.
Unseen.
Unheard.
I gotta keep my shit together.
Bunny’s gotta know I can handle whatever’s thrown at us.
That I’m capable of being whoever and doing whatever is necessary for her.
And us.
And our child.
“You sure this is your mother, Woods?” Post cautiously investigates. “A lot of grifters pass this direction. A lot of them and college kids. And hippie honeymooners.” His eyes flood with sympathy I could do without. “These remains could belong to any one of them.”
“That’s her wedding ring,” I kick my chin to the skeleton’s spread extremities where a gold band that possesses a tiny, single emerald is nestled. “You’ll see Woods engraved on the inside.”
The ME looks up at Post, waiting for the instruction to check for evidence, and once it’s given, he carefully lifts the finger to remove the accessory. Less than a minute later, he’s twirling the ring around, relief instantly settling into his expression. “It’s not her.”
Befuddlement has me lifting my head off of my girl’s. “Then whose is it?”
“Says Abernathy,” Dr. Raum enthusiastically exclaims. “These bones belong to a woman named Bunny Abernathy.”
It’s impossible to stop her from ripping herself out of my arms. “Baby-”
“No…” she shakes her head in disbelief. “No…” Additional denial is effortlessly presented. “No.”
Dr. Raum cringes as his bald head turns upward, the late afternoon sun bouncing off it. “I take it you know this, Bunny Abernathy?”
Rather than reply in words, hitched breaths are given, and I’m not surprised.
I can’t be.
Most of the world we know thinks her last name is Ripley.
She’s absolutely become Ripley.
Much like detective Brian became illegal street racer Brian.
Hell, even Post – who is somewhat aware of the stalking situation – doesn’t know her real last name, although now he probably does.
He’s not exactly the Jeff Gordon of cop shit, but he’s not that dense.
He can put two tracks together and see the race.
“Bunny,” comes out of the sheriff in a less than confident tone at the same time he extends an empathetic hand in her direction. “It’s gonna be-”
“No,” she hisses, body still backing away from the crime scene. “No!”
“She shares a name with the victim?!” Dr. Raum excitedly questions. “I wonder if there’s a connection!”
There’s definitely a fucking connection.
No matter how much we wish there wasn’t.
No matter how fucking hard we keep trying to cut those break lines to make them crash into a fucking tree.
Post makes another attempt to settle the situation, “Bunny-”
“No!”
“Give me a sec with her,” I express, walking the same direction she is. “Alone.”
He reluctantly nods prior to redirecting his attention back to the medical professional that’s rising to his feet with either new questions or new information.
Her fleeing stops on the opposite side of the road, a few feet away off the paved path, in the middle of a dirt one that looks recently taken. As soon as I’m directly in front of her, she quietly barks, “How the fuck does he keep doing this?!” Frantic hand movements accompany her whispered screeching. “Why can’t anyone fucking find him?!” Pacing begins. “Or see him?! Or stop him?!” She runs her hands down the side of her face, scratching at her own skin, clawing for freedom I’m starting to fear we’ll never find. “How the fuck are we supposed to have a child with him out there?!”
Unmatched honesty is attached to a small shrug. “We can’t.”
At that, Rabbit abruptly stops.
Finds my gaze.
Tilts her face in question.
“We have to kill him before our son is born. End of story.”
“Not end of story.” She lets her shoulders slip a little lower during an impish scolding. “It could be a girl.”
“Then before our little Letty is born.”
“We’re not naming her Letty.”
“Fine,” I join her in the teasing smiles, “but at least we’re on the same road about the other thing, right?”
Bunny doesn’t hesitate to bob her head in agreement.
McAdams will, absolutely fucking, meet his death date before our child receives their birth one.
Preparing to close the gap between us has me initially stepping forward; however, the gust of unexpected cold air leads to me turning my head away from it, an action that results in something small capturing my attention. “Is that a tooth?”
“Huh?”
“There.” Pointing to the ground about a foot over occurs next. “Is that a tooth?”
The woman I was moving towards lets her frame bend that direction to inspect the object. “Maybe?”
“Is that another one?” My gesturing moves a couple inches further away from the road. “And another?” Our eyes momentarily lock. “Did he leave a trail of my mom’s fucking teeth for us to follow?!”