Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 75195 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 376(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75195 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 376(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
“Come to find out that the woman was Black so. . .almost no coverage at all.”
“Shit.”
“Girl, if it was Becky there would be all types of helicopters in the sky and units combing the place—”
“Don’t say that, Scarlett. I believe things have gotten better for how the police investigate sisters’ murders.”
“Me too, but I study too many cases like this. The media should have been relentless, with the story appearing in every news bulletin and front page, but naw. Barely, nothing.”
A cold chill hit me. “How can someone be so cruel and burn a woman to death like that?”
“And, he’s still out there, somewhere. The few police on the case are stumped. They’ve got no leads, no clues, nothing. It’s like he’s a ghost.”
I shuddered.
“At least our building is on point.”
I raised my eyebrows. “What do you mean?”
“A guy came through to our place after you left and checked the locks and put in new security locks for our windows.” Scarlett picked up a napkin and wiped her mouth. “Your window gave him tons of problems. He was in there for a minute, but we are both good to go.”
“I’m glad the building owner is on it.”
“Me too. Everyone should be looking over their shoulders.”
“I sure will be.” With that, I noticed a man watching us from across the room.
He was seated at the corner table that was covered in dark illustrations of a madman’s face. The surface showed a male character with eyes that were wide and wild. It represented Poe’s unsettling story, The Man of the Crowd.
There, this strange man sipped his coffee with his face partly obscured by a newspaper.
Scarlett kept talking as my view remained on him.
There was something about this man that struck me as odd, and my attention was inexplicably drawn to him. His cheek was marred with scars, and his eyes seemed to be fixed on me, watching with an intensity that sent another shiver down my spine.
“Nova? Earth to Nova.” Scarlett’s voice pulled me back. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost. Don’t tell me Tristan’s fingers have ruined you for all other conversations!”
I forced a laugh, trying to shake off the eerie feeling. “No. His fingers didn’t do that.”
“Anyway, what’s really frightening is the randomness of it all. That poor woman was just an ordinary person, like you or me. It could have been anyone.”
I shivered. The once cozy and whimsical ambiance of Poe’s seemed to take on a more sinister tone as we delved into the dark reality outside its walls.
I frowned. “What do you think drives a person to do something like that?”
“Sure, there’s all types of psychological reasonings. And we can get into nature vs. nurture, but I don’t know, Nova.” She shrugged. “I’ve made this guy my focus, and I know it will be a journey into madness.”
I tried to refocus on Scarlett’s words, yet my mind kept drifting back to the scarred man. His presence felt like a weight, pulling at the edges of my consciousness.
I stole another glance in his direction, and my breath caught in my throat.
His chair was empty, the newspaper left abandoned on the table. But there, still steaming slightly, was his cup of coffee.
I blinked, unable to comprehend what I was seeing.
He had been there just a moment ago, watching me, and now he was gone.
At least, the coffee was proof that I hadn’t imagined him, that he had been real.
“Nova, seriously, what’s going on?” Scarlett’s concerned voice broke through my confusion.
I shook my head and forced a smile. “It’s probably nothing. This topic is just making me paranoid as fuck.”
Scarlett gave me a smile. “Then, enough of this dark talk. Let’s focus on the positive. What do you think Tristan is planning for today?”
“Something crazy and nasty as fuck.”
Chapter Sixteen
Dick-Whipped
After brunch, we headed back to our place, and I spotted an art supply store.
The old sign read Fine Arts Emporium and looked as if it had been preserved in amber since the seventies.
I placed my hand in front of Scarlett and stopped us.
Scarlett looked at me. “What?”
“I need to go in there.”
Scarlett turned her gaze toward the store. “In there?”
“Yeah.”
“Why?”
“It’s an art store, and I’m dating an artist.”
“But, he’s Mr. Big Dick, not the type of guy you get presents for.”
“What if I’m inspired to get him something?”
She studied me. “Not because you are falling in love with him. Right?”
“It was just one date, Scarlett. I’m not in love.”
“But it was one hell of a date. I bet your ass is already dick-whipped and didn’t even get the dick yet.”
I chuckled. “Just come in the store and help me find something. You always have to take things to the next level.”
“Alright, Ms. Dick-Whipped. I’m coming.”
I chuckled.
“Fingers so good, you get a present. Whew, girl.” Scarlett waved her hand. “I don’t know if I want to mess with fingers like that. Maybe, cancel your research and see if he has a single friend.”