Total pages in book: 51
Estimated words: 47537 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 238(@200wpm)___ 190(@250wpm)___ 158(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 47537 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 238(@200wpm)___ 190(@250wpm)___ 158(@300wpm)
The case is a horror story and a tragedy that kept mothers awake at night. It destroyed a small town in northeastern New York and I can’t even imagine what their families went through.
Including Cody, given that Christopher was only identified by teeth buried in the black dirt and the little boy who survived said he was alive only days before. A week would have made a difference in a life. A single week. The lead detective on the case retired shortly after and one note I haven’t forgotten is in the files. A note stating that he suspected one of the men nearly a year before they were caught, but nothing came of the home search.
A photograph stares back at me as I drag the device into my lap and lean against the headboard.
Christopher Walsh was one of the sixteen boys over the course of four years.
There’s no one to question now, only ghosts.
Yet questions pile up in my mind, refusing to let it go, because deep down inside I’m vaguely aware there’s something here that I’m supposed to know.
The creak of the floor is synonymous with a number of things. The first being a striking fear that runs through me, followed by a chill that rolls down my spine. The second and most obvious is an unsolicited exhale and the memory of the last time I saw Marcus.
His mouth on mine, his body so close I can still feel the heat of him. The detailed reminder that comes with a whisper of his kiss against my lips washes away so much of everything else in this very moment.
Still, my gaze shifts from the darkened corner where a man obviously stands, to my gun, very much in clear sight on my nightstand.
With my pulse both heating and racing, I struggle to move. Another creak of the floorboards shifts the shadow and I stare into the darkness.
“It’s only me,” he speaks, breaking the silence.
My question is merely a murmur. “Should I close my eyes?” I don’t know how I’m able to breathe, let alone whisper the words.
I can’t see a damn thing but I swear I know he’s smiling when he answers me, his voice gruff as if he hasn’t spoken in a long, long time. “It depends on two things.”
The thumping in my chest is harder and my body hotter in every way possible, to the point that I desperately need to move out from under the covers, but my body is far too paralyzed to do so.
“What two things?”
“Can you see me?”
A hesitant exhale accompanies the headshake I offer as an answer.
“Good.”
“And the second thing?”
“Is that gun for me?”
Lie to him, my inner voice hisses, but the truth comes out instead as I say, “Yes. You or anyone else who broke in … but I figured it’d be you. How did you get in?”
There’s a hint of something in my voice I can’t quite place. My gaze follows the slight shift along the dark shadow.
“Because you’re scared?” he asks and ignores my questions. A hardness as well as curiosity are present in his tone.
“Yes,” I say, offering the word but I’m not sure he heard it so I nod and with it, my arms finally move. Even that small a change seems too much and I do everything I can to be as still as possible.
It feels as if my body is trembling, but when I peer down, I’m still as a statue.
“Don’t be afraid. I don’t have any desire to hurt you.” The recognition of his voice, of the event that transpired in Cody’s kitchen loosens my coiled muscles. Again I peer at the gun before turning back to the darkness in the corner. He must be leaning against the wall.
“Does that mean I don’t have to close my eyes?” I ask him.
“You really should.”
My throat is tight as I swallow and the sound it makes is audible and wretched.
Marcus only chuckles, and then tsk-tsks me. “I said don’t be afraid, Delilah.”
“How long have you been here?” I ask him, focusing on my alarm clock that now blinks 12:12 in a harsh red, mocking me. My phone never alerted me that the power went out.
“Maybe a half hour … That seems about right.” Gesturing to the blinking clock, the man I believe is dressed in all black, or at least dark colors, only responds, “It had to be fast not to set off the alarm. Don’t blame yourself for not noticing right away. You were so caught up in … a case? I presume?”
I still can’t make out his features, but I know he has a hood above his head. Something that could easily block his face if he wished. His outline is defined with broad shoulders and the height of a tall man. Every other detail, though, is hidden from view.