Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 62480 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 312(@200wpm)___ 250(@250wpm)___ 208(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 62480 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 312(@200wpm)___ 250(@250wpm)___ 208(@300wpm)
“I don’t know.”
Her hand lashes out and I see it coming. How the flat of her palm smacks hard into my cheek. The sting of her slap is a hell of a shock. She really gave the hit her all. I wonder if the woman plays pickleball or something. She has a great swing. And this assault, like her sniff of much disdain, is no surprise. Her pale pink–tipped dagger of a finger points at my face. “This is because of you, Sidney. You are the bad seed, the rotten fucking apple.”
“I understand that you’re hurting, Aunt Beth, but—”
“My useless sister was just the same. I told Mom to get rid of you, but did she listen? No. And you and your bullshit and your homicidal fucking boyfriend ended up getting her killed too!” The woman isn’t saying anything I haven’t heard before or even thought at times. Her words still hurt, however. She draws her arm back again, hand flat and ready to let fly at me again. This time when she goes to swing, however, I catch her wrist and keep it in a tight grip.
“No,” I say in a firm voice. “I gave you the first one, but that’s all you’re getting.”
She pulls her hand out of my hold. And I let her go.
“I am sorry your daughter is dead. But I don’t know who killed Grace or why,” I say and it’s mostly the truth. Theories and guesses aren’t going to give her any closure. “You should leave now, Aunt Beth. Go back to New York. There’s nothing for you here.”
“I couldn’t agree with you more.” The way her nostrils flare as she straightens her shoulders. “Don’t come to her funeral. I don’t want you there.”
Noah: Further to previous conversations re our relationship, communication while separated is of utmost importance.
Me: Why are you texting at me like you’re a lawyer?
Noah: I am now getting greens out of the walk-in fridge.
Noah: Thinking of working on a new sauce next.
Me: Okay.
Noah: I would kindly request that you take this seriously.
Me: My apologies for any perceived slight. I’m updating order codes for a customer. Which basically means I am sitting on my behind and inputting numbers while drinking my third coffee of the day.
Noah: What are you doing now?
Me: Still inputting numbers.
Me: How about you?
Noah: Still thinking about the sauce.
Me: This is amazing. I feel so close to you right now.
Noah: Yeah. I am usually right about things. Best for you to know that now.
Noah: How are you really doing?
Me: Honestly I am having a day. But you made it better.
Noah: Tell me all about it later?
Me: You got it.
“Grace’s body was found about half a mile from her car. She was killed by a single bullet to the back of the head,” reports the podcaster.
The second dude says, “Such a shocking turn of events for all of us here at Misled.”
“It certainly is, Steve, and our thoughts and prayers go out to her family and friends. While we have issued an invitation to Grace’s mother, we have yet to hear back from her. But we hope to have her on the podcast real soon.”
I snort. “I highly doubt that.”
Hana, Muriel, and I are seated on cushions around the coffee table. Some nights are sitting-on-the-floor-and-eating-your-feelings sort of occasions. We ordered palak paneer, chicken saag, shrimp biryani, cheese naan, rice, and raita. Auggie sits beside me watching every bite of food like his life depends on it. As if he’s starving and hasn’t been fed in forever. The drama is real.
I haven’t told my friends about the visit from Aunt Beth. There’s no mark on my face and honestly, I would rather forget it ever happened. I will, however, tell Noah due to his honesty-is-best policy.
“So, who do you think did it?” asks Steve. “Because you know who my money’s on.”
Hana shakes her head. “This pair of dicks.”
“For our new listeners, Grace was in Vermont to talk to her cousin Sidney Walsh for us. I trust you’re all familiar with that name.” And the fucker actually chortles. “I think we’re about to see sales of the Team Ryan merchandise go through the roof.”
I wipe my hands with a napkin. “Another woman has died and they’re talking about t-shirts.”
“There are respectful, ethical true crime investigators out there,” says Muriel. “Why they gave these two craven assholes the opportunity to make a documentary and expand their platform, I will never understand.”
“Grace’s bravery in facing down her cousin and joining our fight for truth and justice ending in this horrific way has been a heavy blow to everyone here at Misled. We were hoping she might have more information or been able to offer more insight into Sidney’s supposed project to find the bodies of other women who went missing ten years ago during what there is reason to believe was her original reign of terror,” says Steve. “Of course, searching for bodies that she may well have buried in the first place is either some sort of delusion or diversion on her part. Is it just a ruse so she has an excuse to keep visiting the graves she dug herself and reliving the thrill of killing those women?”