Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 54645 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 273(@200wpm)___ 219(@250wpm)___ 182(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 54645 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 273(@200wpm)___ 219(@250wpm)___ 182(@300wpm)
I don’t doubt that they did, on both counts. But I have to go back. For a little box, hidden behind the air vent in the bathroom, with all the evidence of what happened on that terrible night.
I know that somehow, some day, I will figure out how to get justice for Mom and Dad. And that little box is my only way to do so.
But I can’t have that little box falling into anybody else’s hands. It holds the key to my parents’ killer. And the evidence that kept my own life in jeopardy for years.
I look at Edward, keeping my gaze steady, and faking as much courage as I can muster. There’s no time to lose. I have to get back before my landlord gets his shit together and changes the locks.
“If you really want to know, I replaced all the switch plates myself. And as a point of principle, I am not letting that disgusting landlord keep them.”
Edward cocks his head. “Switch plates. Really?”
I open the drawer in the kitchen and take out a butter knife. “Really. So either you go with me, or I’ll find a way to go by myself. What’s it going to be?”
CHAPTER 16
Kat
He goes with me but he isn’t happy about it. He pulls angrily into the parking lot, with the Humvee’s wheels crunching over Styrofoam fast-food containers and old soda bottles and much, much worse. “Get in and get out, you hear me? If anything happens to you, Trent won’t just re-break my leg. He’ll take my head right off my goddamned shoulders. I’ll be here, engine running, waiting for you to come out. I’ll keep my eyes on the office make sure that shit-lord doesn’t come back out.”
Edward’s worry isn’t my problem. Not right now. I glance quickly at the flickering OFFICE sign that really says “F IC”, with its dusty, faded blinds down as always, but watching close for a thick, dirty finger to spread the yellowed plastic louvers to have a look at what’s going on outside.
But the louvers stay shut. Time to seize my chance. Without a word to Edward, I pop open the door and book it inside, holding my breath as I pass through the filthy entrance area. Up the steps and down the hall, with my butter knife in hand.
I slip my key into the lock, say a mini-prayer, and turn the key.
The door swings open and I blow out a breath of relief as I step inside the empty space.
It’s cool in the apartment, with the shades shut and the AC blowing. I lock the door behind me and tiptoe across the faded carpet into the bathroom.
My heart races as I balance myself on the unsteady lid of the toilet. On tip toes, I reach up and use the tip of the butter knife to loosen the two screws in the rusty, chipped vent.
Within seconds, I’ve got the little box and I’m fastening the vent back into place. And I think I’m home free until I hear the sound of the door creak.
“Ayyyy, where you at, mujer? I was next door, heard your door close.”
Damn it. I try to tuck the box under my arm, next to my breasts, but I’m not wearing enough clothes to hide it. This stupid yellow dress. If only I were in a hoodie, then I really would be home free.
Coming out of the bathroom, Victor stands there with a Red Bull in one hand and a cigarette in the other. He glances at the butter knife and then flicks his chin at the box. He’s not an idiot. And I’m pretty sure he’s the kind of guy that has hidden secret stuff in vents for most of his life.
“Forget something?”
“This is still my place until Friday. I paid you, didn’t I?”
Victor takes a long drag on his cigarette. “Pues, sure. But still surprised to see you. Those two fucking gringo assholes yesterday said you wouldn’t be back. But here you are.”
“Yeah? Want me to give them a call? Have a nice little reunion? We can stop by the ER to get your broken nose set afterwards. How’s that sound?”
Victor’s eyes shimmer, and he smiles a little. “Gonna miss your spunk, mujer.”
“Take care of yourself, Victor,” I say, and head for the door.
“But wait, do me a favor. Tell all your guys to leave this place the fuck alone, sabes?”
I spin around to face him. I’ve known Victor a long time. His English isn’t perfect but he most definitely knows the difference between both and all. “All my guys?”
He nods. “Those two soldiers yesterday, right, and that fucking Russian who leaves you love letters.”
My breath gets caught in my throat. Bile tickles my esophagus. “Did he come back?”
Victor nods, patting down his pockets, and produces another white folded letter. “Left you this. What the fuck do I look like, the postman? Por favor.”