Total pages in book: 139
Estimated words: 128083 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 640(@200wpm)___ 512(@250wpm)___ 427(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128083 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 640(@200wpm)___ 512(@250wpm)___ 427(@300wpm)
She moved around Trig, leaving a wide berth, as she walked quickly to the doorway and out into the hall. Her attention was diverted momentarily by the sounds of sirens wailing somewhere nearby. It sounded like they were coming closer. The doorbell rang again, and then again.
“Trig?” AJ called again and Cami heard the uncertainty in his voice. He was beginning to realize something was wrong. Cami moved quickly to the top of the stairs, raised the gun, and fired at the man with black hair who’d turned and was heading back down. The plaster on the wall next to him exploded, and he let out a yell as he ducked, hunched, and ran. She stood there panting as she heard him open the sliding glass door to their deck, followed by the sounds of him running down the deck stairs.
The police sirens were screaming outside her house now. Whoever was ceaselessly ringing the bell must have called them.
Cami ran to her sister’s room and fell down on her knees beside her. She looked like she was sleeping, even though the quilt at her chest was soaked in blood. She brought her shaking fingers to her sister’s neck and held them there for several moments before letting out a sob. She pulled the tape gently from her mouth and then set the gun down so she could cup her sister’s beautiful face in her hands. I was too late. Oh, Elle. I’m so sorry. I was too late.
A loud bang from downstairs made her gasp, wood splintering as the police kicked in the door. “Aspen Cove Police! Show yourself!”
Cami picked up the gun and stood, almost losing her balance but catching herself. The world around her had turned to watercolor, sheets of rain washing over her, and she could barely understand the words being shouted from below. She waded back to the primary bedroom, holding on to the hallway wall so as not to fall.
“Someone went out the back! Jefferson, this way.” She thought she heard Mrs. Willoughby from far away. It sounded like she was crying. A male voice told her to stay outside.
“There’s a man in the office, tied up. He needs a medic now.”
“They’re en route. Two minutes away.”
She made it to her mother and sank down on the bed and pressed her face into her mother’s warm neck and inhaled her scent, sobs racking her body. She thought she felt something—a gust of breath that cooled her wet cheek and lifted her head, to see her mother’s lashes fluttering so very slightly. “Mom, Mom,” she sobbed, peeling the tape back gently as she’d done to Elle.
Then she turned and called over her shoulder, “Up here! We need help!” Her voice sounded overly soft. She couldn’t push it from her chest. But she heard the sounds of approaching footsteps and knew someone was coming. “Hold on, Mom.” She pushed her mom’s hair off her face, running her hand across her brow.
Her mom reached up and gripped her arms. “Cami . . . Cami. Oh my . . . God, Cami.”
“Shh, don’t talk. Help is coming. Just hang on.”
Her mother shook her slightly as an officer rushed into the room.
“Do of,” her mother said, her voice so weak Cami could barely hear her. “Do . . . of . . . her.”
The officer was looking at her with wide eyes. He swallowed as he approached, and she looked back to her mother. “So . . . sorry. Love . . . you. So much.” And then with a gurgle, blood bubbled from her mouth, and she went slack.
“Mom!” The officer’s hand wrapped around her arm, and she tried to shake him off but he held tighter and pulled her from the bed easily. More people ran into the room wearing white. They had a stretcher and as Cami stumbled aside, she saw more people in uniforms race down the hall toward Elle’s room.
But Cami knew Elle was already gone.
The same officer leaned toward her, his face blurring as his mouth moved. He was saying something, but she couldn’t make out the words. Dad, Dad. Cami shook free of his arm and turned and ran from the room, hitting each hallway wall as she threw herself forward, practically tumbling down the stairs, the sound of her name being called from somewhere.
She made it to the hall that led to the foyer just as her father was being taken from his office on a stretcher. His face was bruised, his eye swollen, but he was awake. He was alive. He turned his head and looked at her, his expression crumpling as he began to sob.
“Ma’am, please. Let us help you. You’re hurt.” Someone was trying to lead her away, but she had to get to her dad. She had to be with him. He was all she had left.