Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 89093 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 445(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89093 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 445(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
“I w-was under t-the limit.” I know this because I purposely kept it five miles under the designated signage so I wouldn’t be pulled over by anyone in this county. They’re as crooked here as my father’s bottom teeth. “This r-road is seventy.”
Sheriff Dumont tsks me. “There’s a sign half a mile backing reducing the speed to sixty. At times, these roads get a little icy, making them unsafe to travel on at full speed.” When I attempt to look in the direction he hooked his thumb, he shouts for me to return my hands to my head. “One more failure to follow directions will see you charged with failure to cooperate with a police directive.”
“I’m not r-resisting. I-I was just looking for t-the sign.”
“T-The s-sign? Are you a retard or something?”
His impersonation of my stutter snaps my last nerve. “No. I have a f-fucking speech impediment.” That’s nowhere near as noticeable when I’m angry. “Which doesn’t affect my ability to see, and since I didn’t t-take my eyes off the road for a single second, I know there’s no sign r-reducing the speed limit to sixty. You just made it up so you could p-pull me over.”
“You didn’t take your eyes off the road for even a second?” When I nod, he murmurs on a chuckle, “Not even to make sure he’s still breathing?”
My back molars smash together when he shines his torch into Cecil’s face. The fact he can see how unwell he looks but doesn’t offer any assistance is all the proof I need as to why I sought help in another county. He, along with almost every other person in this region of the state want Cecil dead, but I refuse to let that happen.
So, with my head locked down and my heart certain this is the right thing to do, I drop my hands, throw the gearstick into reverse, then flatten my foot to the floor.
When Cecil’s truck crashes into Sheriff Dumont’s patrol car with enough force to sound the siren, I do a quick shift change, then take a wide birth around the sheriff so he can’t tack attempted murder onto the charges I’ll be sure to face once I’ve ensured Cecil is safe.
When patrol cars dart out of every side street to shadow my sprint to Saint Frances Hospital, it dawns on me that my earlier assumption was right. Neither the fire nor the bump to Cecil’s head were an accident. Roderick has grown impatient, and everyone knows irrational decisions usually follow a lack of patience.
With Cecil’s truck too slow to outrun the deputies following us, I fan my hand across Cecil’s chest to hold him in place better than his seat belt before using the truck’s chunky tires to my advantage.
I veer us down an unmarked road like four-wheel driving is on Cecil’s bucket list. Since the low-riding patrol cars can’t follow our trek across the rugged landscape, we reach Saint Frances several minutes before them. It isn’t a lot of time, but it’s enough to get Cecil out of his truck and onto a gurney in the emergency room before more than ambulance sirens rumble through the busting ER.
“Take him to the trauma bay,” shouts a female voice a second after flashing a torch into Cecil’s eyes and checking the wound at the back of his head.
When she spins around to gather instruments off a trolley being wheeled in by a plump nurse, I choke on my spit. Although her face is a little rounder than it was years ago, and her eyes darkened by the lack of natural light, I swear she’s the angel from my dreams.
My memories from the night Ophelia died are blurry at best, but you don’t often find beautiful Asian women with dazzling green eyes, so they kind of stick with you. Not to mention the insane patter the quickest careening of our eyes caused my heart.
It’s only ever responded like this to one person.
To her.
I’m not the only one stunned by the intense zap bolting between us. Jae’s dead- straight hair slips off one shoulder when she angles her head to the side before her perfectly manicured brows join together. She looks like she has a million questions in her head, but before any of them can leave her mouth, her focus is returned to Cecil by a devastating disclosure. “He’s coding.”
In less than a second, Jae races into the bay where they took Cecil. Even if my heart hadn’t already confirmed she’s the lady from my dreams, confirmation smacks into me hard and fast when her brisk movements push back her bluntly cut bangs, exposing the lightning-shaped scar on her forehead. It was from where my necklace seared her skin.
It is her—Jae—the woman I thought had died because she put my safety before her own.