Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 89878 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 449(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89878 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 449(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
“I have an early meeting. Do you need a ride?”
“No, I’m good.”
I nod, unable to look him in the eye any longer. “See you at the office.” My words are clipped, and I walk out with heat rising in my chest. The drive to work is a blur, my grip tight on the steering wheel. My fingers itch to call her. Text her to make sure she’s safe. But this could be a ploy—a calculated move to wedge herself into my son’s life. To make him feel sorry for her. The thought churns in my mind as I replay every interaction and moment Georgia and Vince crossed paths. Could they have been working together? The boat. That morning he walked her up the stairs because she “wasn’t feeling well.” It took him far too long to come back, claiming he needed his AirPods.
Then there’s Burt. That bastard would absolutely use his son as a pawn to get to me. But where does Georgia fit into all this? Is she a victim, or is she playing the game just as hard?
Did Vince visit Noah at school? Have they been simmering on this for some time now? I offered her a fucking job, falling right into their trap.
I almost hit a pedestrian speeding into the parking garage. My anger rages as I walk into my office. “Sarah!” I yell, scaring the shit out of my assistant.
“Yes, Mr. Blake?”
“Get Wayne on the phone.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And close my door.”
“Yes, sir.”
Once my door closes, I open my home surveillance app. Not that I fucking care, but I search through the recordings, starting with after I told Georgia to leave. Sure as fuck, she did. Seven minutes later, a car pulled up, and she got in. She looks defeated, the light in her eyes gone.
There’s a knock on my door, and I swipe the app away. “Mr. Blake. Wayne is on line one.”
I nod, taking the call. “Tell me you have something.”
“No, but I’m getting close. I hate to say it, but Gary thinks the virus was planted. It’s only corrupted the footage from that day.”
“Dammit.”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Blake. We’re doing everything—”
There’s another knock. “Sorry to disturb you. Craig is on line two. He says you’re expecting him.”
“Wayne, I need to call you back.” I hit line two and wave Sarah off. “Blake.”
“I found what you’re looking for.”
“Tell me everything,” I snap, my fingers drumming against the desk.
“Georgia Price. Goes by the nickname Georgie. Nineteen. Born in Dayton, Ohio, to Maribel and Samuel Price. She has a sister. Leighton. Seventeen. Goes by Lettie. Father died when she was ten. Heart attack. Her mother remarried a year later to Bill Shepard. Real piece of work. In and out of jail for gambling, minor drug possession, and three DUIs. Rumor is he gambled away the kids’ college funds. The wife’s got a pretty extensive hospital record but denies it’s tied to him.”
“Georgia?”
“She has her own hospital record. Sprained wrist, broken finger, bruised ribs, two swollen eyes. That’s just one visit.” My knuckles are white around the receiver. Who the fuck beats a woman, let alone a child?
“Social services reported possible abuse at home. DCFS made a visit, and it was an open and shut case both times.”
“I want everything you can get on this asshole.”
“Got it.”
My gut tightens at my next question. “And Price and Hallstead?”
“Sifted through his internet history. He has quite an interest in Price, but from what I gather, she knew nothing about him until recently.”
Fuck.
Doubt settles in my chest. I reopen the security app and pull up the surveillance footage from the morning Vince followed her upstairs. I click play. Georgia hurries up the stairs with Vince behind her. He slams her into the wall, and she goes pale at whatever he’s saying. My stomach twists as he leans in and sucks on her neck. Then she bolts into her room, terror in her eyes, and slams the door shut behind her. I sit, frozen in shock.
She was telling the truth.
Craig continues. “I hacked into his phone. He sent her a bunch of texts last night, threatening ones, and it appears to be the first time he’s reached out to her by phone.”
“Has she read them?”
“My guess is no. She’s shown zero activity since around eight p.m. last night.”
Fuck. Not long after I kicked her out. “Where did the Uber take her?” Please don’t say home.
“Dropped her off at a hotel seven and a half miles from your house. The Continental Plaza. Per hotel staff, she hasn’t left her room since she arrived. No room service, no bed service.”
“Send me the information on her stepfather and the text thread from Hallstead.”
“Will do.”
“I’ll have my assistant cut you a check today. Thanks for your speediness.”
“Always a pleasure.”
I disconnect the call. My email dings, and I scroll, needing to read the texts from Vince.