Total pages in book: 146
Estimated words: 136425 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 682(@200wpm)___ 546(@250wpm)___ 455(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 136425 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 682(@200wpm)___ 546(@250wpm)___ 455(@300wpm)
She shook his hand. “Well, I wasn’t going back. I was going to slip outside.”
Tim let her hand go. “Good for you. Hey, you know what I’ll do? I’ll tell him I saw someone leaving out the back entrance. Then he’ll likely find another target.”
She didn’t like the sound of that. “Maybe I should try to deal with him.”
Tim waved that thought off. “Don’t bother. There aren’t any other targets. All the young women leave for bigger cities. It’s probably why he pounced on you. I’ll watch him and maybe have a talk with the local constable about what I saw. He can be pretty intimidating, and he doesn’t particularly like strangers. Stay inside the loo until I give you the all clear. Or just in this hallway. I’ll make sure he goes out the front.”
At least there were some nice people left in the world. “Thanks, Tim.”
He started to pass her but stumbled slightly and bumped into her. “Sorry. Bit of a klutz.”
“No problem,” she replied as she moved further toward the loos in the back. There were all kinds of pictures lining the narrow hallway. She glanced at them. They went all the way back to World War II. Pictures of men and women in uniform hoisting a pint. Some had careful notations on the bottom of the frames. Lieutenant Miles Bron and company. Catrin and Bethan Davies welcome their soldiers home. They gradually moved to later years, and Devi was fascinated with the clothes they wore, the way they held themselves. What history was here in this tiny pub? She could look at the pictures forever. She kind of wanted to sketch a few of them because there was a ton of inspiration here. She loved the lines of the WWII military uniforms and the elegant hairdos. But she was equally inspired by the bohemian vibes from the sixties. There was something cool and over the top about the eighties.
She could use those lines. Pair them with soft colors and fabrics from the sixties and the elegant makeup from the forties. A whole line sprang into her head. Day wear that flowed into evening looks. Casual wear that fit the vibes of formal wear.
She wanted to sketch and get the ideas down, but she couldn’t exactly go back out to the bar until the coast was clear. If she had her own phone she could have taken some pictures, but she understood why Zach had brought this seemingly smart phone down to basic functions. It wasn’t sending out a signal that let everyone know exactly where it was.
So she simply moved down the hall, studying the pictures that caught her eye. The last few years were filled with photographs of celebrating footballers and graduates with their proud parents. There was one of the same group from long ago. They’d been young soldiers at the beginning of the hall, and now they were old and gray and still hoisting a pint in their uniforms.
It brought tears to her eyes. So much life in those photos. Whole love stories seemed to play out. Children grew up as she made her way down the hall.
She was going to tell her Uncle Sean that they needed a wall like this at Top. It was where a good portion of Dallas celebrated, but more importantly it was where her whole family came together. Almost every graduation and new job were celebrated. Where new babies were welcomed and reunions were had. Just a couple of months back they’d had a big celebration for her dad and Uncle Case’s birthday. Uncle Case and Aunt Mia had come with her cousin Heath. She had sat with her besties and felt like she was at home.
A sniffle came from her. She was getting emotional, but it was okay. She’d felt numb for a long time, and emotion was part of who she was, what she did.
She caught sight of a wedding photo. It looked to be from the early 2000s if the fashions were on trend.
Dr. Arthur Beddoe and wife, Cecelia.
Arthur. She kind of loved Arthur. He was smart and funny and gave excellent advice. It was hard to believe he’d been a soldier at one point.
He wasn’t wearing his uniform. He was in a morning suit, smiling gamely as he held his wife’s hand in one and a pint in the other.
He was younger. Way younger. And honestly, he didn’t look like himself. The coloring was right but the jaw was different, and his shoulders were less broad.
Something about the photo was wrong.
“Hey, he’s gone. But I got a bad feeling about that one.” Tim was back, a worried expression on his face. “I think he was going off to look for you.”
The thought sent a chill down her spine, and all the questions about Arthur fled in favor of worrying if she’d attracted a serial killer. That wasn’t supposed to happen to her. That happened to Daisy. She was the girl who didn’t get into ride shares without checking the license plate and that the picture on the app matched the person doing the driving. She was the perpetual designated driver. The steady one.