Total pages in book: 56
Estimated words: 51335 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 257(@200wpm)___ 205(@250wpm)___ 171(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 51335 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 257(@200wpm)___ 205(@250wpm)___ 171(@300wpm)
“Someone very, very important to me. Please. I have to find her,” I begged. “I can wire the money to you right now.”
“I wouldn’t even take it if I didn’t need it to make sure my family is set up in case I get arrested for a fucking ghost,” Travis responded. “You can send it now?”
“Yes,” I replied quickly.
“Fine. I’ll send you the bank details, you send me the name,” Travis said.
“Thank you, Travis. Thank you so much,” I responded.
“So, do you die again, or what?” Travis asked.
“I’ll have to get back to you on that,” I said. “The main threat is gone, but I quite like my new life. We’ll have to see.”
Travis sighed. “Well, just, stay in touch… you dick.”
I laughed. “Let’s finally get that coffee soon,” I said, and the line went dead without another word.
I exchanged information with Travis, sent the money, and waited patiently for a response. The moon was high in the sky and I was just hoping that Travis could find the information needed in time. I was starting to doze off in my car, when I all of a sudden got a text. My heart jumped up into my throat.
‘Found your girl. She’s staying with her friend Khloe DuBois in Houston.’ There was a photo of an address below it. A few tears actually started to stream down my face. I’d found her. I typed a gracious response, texted Oliver to let him know I was bound for Houston and to alert the guys, and then set off. I didn’t want to go home and pack bags, I barely wanted to stop to gas up my car, I just wanted to drive until I was holding Jordan in my arms. It was close to four hours from city to city, but I probably did it in two and a half. It was a miracle that I didn’t get pulled over, but I couldn’t slow my pace. My car was racing as fast as my heart, and neither would calm until I was in Houston at Khloe’s doorstep. It was just after 10 o’clock at night when I was finally pulling up in front of the duplex that matched the address I clamored out of my car, and ran up to the door, knocking frantically despite the late hour.
There were a few sounds of footsteps and movement from the other side of the door, and then a voice called out. “Hello? Who’s there?”
“Hello, my name is Harrison Rowe. I’m a friend of Jordan’s. I know she’s here and it is imperative that I speak with her, please,” I begged.
“I-I think you should go,” the voice called back, I assumed it was Khloe’s and frightened because Jordan had no doubt told her my story. “I don’t want to call the police.”
“You can call them,” I replied. “I’m running from nothing. I’m not the man Jordan thinks I am.” I leaned against the door. “Please, Jordan, if you can hear me. Please, just let me explain. We’re sick without you, we haven’t gone a day without thinking about you. The story you were told was a lie, and if you just give me a few minutes, I can explain everything.” I rubbed the door as if it could reach through to Jordan. “You know me, Jordan. You know I couldn’t do something like that. You know that in your heart. Please, just give me a chance to explain.”
I sat in silence for a while. I could see that the neighbor from the adjoining duplex had her head poked out the window and was looking down at me, but I didn’t care. I’d embarrass myself a million times over for the chance to speak with Jordan. I’d do whatever I had to. I already had.
I heard the lock click, and my stomach flipped. The door moved aside, and there stood Jordan, her hair in a bun, and her eyes weary and exhausted. She still looked stunning and it took everything in me not to grab her and pull her to me.
“Hi,” I whimpered. “You look wonderful.”
“You shouldn’t be here,” Jordan said, and I could tell she still had a bit of hesitation.
“You opened this door because part of you believes me,” I said. “I’ll tell you the whole truth. Can I please?” Jordan nodded and I took a deep breath before beginning. “My name is Adam Rowland. I was a Navy Seal and then I went into work with the FBI as an agent. I was married to a woman named Eva, Trey’s mother, and my long hours at work and absence from our home caused her to become clinically depressed. After she had Trey, the feeling compounded, and in the end she took her own life. I came home to find her dead on my bed. Those pictures you saw.”