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)
Mr. Abdullah had taught him about thinking ahead. He’d told Cyrus that he should always be two to three moves in front of his opponent. He’d also taught Cyrus that he should know the most obvious moves an opponent might make. So, Cyrus considered all of that. He went over his plan in his head, adjusting it until it seemed right.
Timing is everything, Mr. Abdullah had told him. To lose patience is to lose the battle. A man named Gandhi said that, and Mr. Abdullah said Gandhi was right. Cyrus trusted Mr. Abdullah because he won every chess game he played, not just against Cyrus, but against all the other people in the park, even the businessmen who stopped to play with the old man, thinking they were smarter and better than him. None of them were.
The door opened, startling Cyrus, who was so deep in his own thoughts that he hadn’t heard the man approaching from the other side. Stay alert. Another Mr. Abdullah lesson. He reminded him of that when Cyrus grew bored of waiting for Mr. Abdullah’s move and started staring at something going on in the park rather than watching the board.
The man came in with a bag of food and dropped it near the door. He picked up the other ones and quickly tossed them out of the room before looking back at Cyrus. “They’ll be here sooner than we thought,” the man said. “Tomorrow afternoon.”
They. The bad men. They’d be there tomorrow afternoon. Timing was everything, but sometimes timing wasn’t up to you. “When?” Cyrus asked.
“Like I said, tomorrow afternoon.”
“That’s not very specific.”
“I’ll worry about specifics.”
“Don’t I get a last meal?”
“What the hell are you talking about, kid?”
“You know, before a prisoner gets zapped in the electric chair, they give him a last meal. Anything he wants.”
He eyed Cyrus, an amused smile tilting his thin lips. “They don’t use the electric chair no more. Cruel and unusual.” The man scratched his neck. “But I see your point, little man. Sure. You can have a last meal. What do you want?”
“Breakfast. Pancakes and bacon with plenty of syrup. Whipped cream too.”
The man raised a brow. “You like pancakes, huh? Yeah, that’s what I’d choose as a last meal myself, come to think of it.” He regarded Cyrus. “Okay, sure. You haven’t given me too much trouble and you’ve got some . . . challenging times ahead, kid.”
“Can I have it in the morning? Breakfast is best in the morning.”
“You’re not wrong there.” He let out a little snort. “You’re an interesting kid, you know that? Okay then, pancakes in the morning it is. Now get some sleep.”
Cyrus sat back against the wall, his heart speeding. He’d already napped today, and he wasn’t tired. But he nodded. He’d stay up tonight and go over his plan. He’d perfect it as much as possible. Every move.
Until it was time.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Rex heard Cami release an exhale as the man who’d brought Cyrus food closed the door behind him, leaving the child there. And damn it, he’d picked up the bag and tossed it out the door far too quickly for them to glimpse more of the red logo.
“Whoever is coming to pick him up will be there tomorrow,” she said, bringing her hand to her midsection and holding it there.
He looked back to the road, worry a steady buzz beneath his skin. “We’re close,” he told her. “We’ve gotta be.”
She gave a jerky nod and chewed at her thumbnail. “What do you think about that pancake thing?”
“That struck you too?” It had raised his hackles, and he wasn’t sure why. He’d only gotten to know the kid by observing him through a video lens, and yet he felt like he was beginning to learn his small cues. Like the way his eyes had narrowed very slightly as he waited for the man to agree to pancakes.
Cami looked back at the screen, where Cyrus was laying out the cards on the floor. “Yeah. I’m not sure why, though, other than he hasn’t seemed that interested in food before this. He eats whatever the guy leaves and hasn’t requested anything.”
“And he didn’t seem especially curious about who was coming to collect him,” Rex said. Which might mean several things. One being the kid was simply too scared to ask.
Rex glanced out at the coast, his gaze flitting over the lush natural landscape. The views on their drive so far had been ridiculously beautiful, and yet he’d only vaguely processed them. Maybe someday, he could return and really enjoy this perfect slice of nature.
But for now, he could only see this paradise as a muted backdrop. Because somewhere out there among the towering pines, and beyond the crashing waves, a little boy was in imminent danger.
Rex’s cell rang, breaking him from his troubled thoughts, and he reached for it. “It’s my buddy,” he told Cami before taking the call. “Joaquin.”