Total pages in book: 173
Estimated words: 163802 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 819(@200wpm)___ 655(@250wpm)___ 546(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 163802 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 819(@200wpm)___ 655(@250wpm)___ 546(@300wpm)
“—no, Sarah,” he wailed. “How c-could this happen? Where are you? Why is she in the passenger seat?”
I tensed. Of course he noticed that. Why wouldn’t he?
“I don’t know. I was on the I-102 going north when I saw the accident. The last town I passed was called Cordell. As for the driver, there must’ve been one, but they took off before I got here. Now, I really have to call the police and get out of here,” I said, rushing over him when he tried to cut in. “I’m really sorry about your girl. By—”
“No, check the glove compartment,” he shouted. “Get the registration and tell me the name of the rich fucking bastard who drove my girl around, and then left her dead on the side of the road!”
“Check the— Are you insane! I’d have to move her to get to the glove box. I’m not touching a dead body, man!” Those drama camps really paid off. “What the hell is wrong with you?!”
“Okay, okay, you’re right,” Dan said. “I— Fuck, that was too much to ask. But, come on, you have to tell me something about this guy. He can’t get away with this.”
“Well, I... I can tell you he is most likely a she.”
“What? A girl?” Skepticism laced his voice. “How can you tell?”
“Because the seat is pushed all the way up, so they’ve got to be super short. And,” I added, “there’re a bunch of shopping bags in the backseat. Gucci, Prada, and all that shit. Could that be your girlfriend’s stuff?”
“No,” he dismissed. “I know better than anyone how much Sarah makes. She couldn’t even afford the parking meter outside of those rich-bitch stores.”
“That’s all I can see.” I pressed my fingers to my temple. My head was really starting to pound. “Now, I’ve got to hang up and put this phone back.”
“Okay, but text me your number before you do.” I heard shuffling on his side of the phone. “I’m looking up Cordell now, but you can drop me a pin—”
“I said no, man. I don’t want anything more to do with this,” I said. “Besides, you don’t need me. The cops will get her phone and her license, they’ll reach out to you, and they’ll tell you everything—including who owns this car.
“Now, I’ve got to get out of here. You cool?”
“Uh, I— Yeah, I’m good.” Daniel sounded more than a little put out. “I get it. You’ve got your own shit. Go ahead and call. Let them get her out of there. I’m sure they’ll call me right after.”
“All right.” I hung up before he could say more.
Stepping back from the car, I stood there for a long time—staring down at my phone.
Just like that.
A picture and some silken-spun bullshit, and Daniel Mills was finally out of my life.
Or at least he will be until I return to the apartment building literally across the street from his diner, he sees me, and then he blows up at me for letting him believe I was dead.
Daniel’s pain always became my bruises, and this would be no different. He’d flood the internet with my flat ass to punish me. Of course he would, unless—
I never go back.
My breaths came too fast, heaving my chest against my tight top.
But I’ll have to go back, another voice argued. There are some things that not even dying will change about Omma, and in her mind, there’re no such things as accidents or mistakes. Someone is always to blame, and she’ll blame me for this. There’s no way she’ll let me stay.
A memory floated to my mind unbidden.
“The doctors have her on so many meds to stop the pain, they’re making her loopy and confused. Some days she doesn’t know what year it is or even who she is.”
I nodded slowly, letting the voice talk. Letting it whisper through my jangled mind.
She’s on hospice. She doesn’t have much time. If I can just keep her calm and happy for her time remaining. Tell her that Sue was away and she’d be back soon. In the meantime, she sent me here to be with her, so she wouldn’t be alone.
I can just keep repeating that story every time she asks until she drifts off to rest. And with Omma content and happy, she won’t notice that I’ve used the resemblance nature gave me to borrow a bit from Sue’s bank accounts, possibly to the tune of the trust and college fund she cost me with her psychotic prank. I won’t be taking more than what she already owes me, that voice whispered.
Besides, when Omma’s gone, everything will revert to me anyway—chiefly the manor. A manor worth a whole lot more than ten thousand dollars and an old car. All I’ll have to do is sell the place, and then I’ll have the money to go anywhere. Live anywhere—with my baby. There’ll be no reason at all to go back to Willingsworth.