Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 71403 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 357(@200wpm)___ 286(@250wpm)___ 238(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71403 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 357(@200wpm)___ 286(@250wpm)___ 238(@300wpm)
After the baby animals, Thea leads me over to the table ChicagO2 news purchased for the night. I meet a slew of people I half-recognize from the news, including the head anchor Micaela Fields—Thea warned me on the way that she’s a fake bitch, which is exactly the impression I got when I met her—along with her husband Michael. She then introduced Tip Sanderson—the co-anchor—and his partner, Daniel. Then Cal Dahmer, who covers sports. Cal, like Thea, apparently brought a last-minute date. She, like me, will have to head out early. That is if she shows up at all. An empty chair sits to Cal’s right.
“She probably isn’t real,” Thea whispers in my ear. “Cal’s a player with a new girl every week. Word might have gotten out about him.”
I suppress a chuckle as I check my watch. I have about an hour until I’ll have to excuse myself and head over to Jade to prep for the evening, but I can at least enjoy the first course or two at dinner. I sit down next to Thea and dig into the salad—a tasty raspberry vinaigrette over a bed of mixed greens and spinach finished off with a smattering of pine nuts. Micaela drones on about her upcoming vacation to Tokyo with her husband and daughters. Thea tosses me several well-placed eye rolls.
The waitstaff collect the plates to clear the way for the meat course—filet mignon, which I’m looking extremely forward to—and the rest of the people at the table get up to dance before the next course is served. Cal’s date still hasn’t showed. I can’t help but wonder if she stood him up the same way that Twistr asshole stood Thea up. I turn to Thea—
Just as a cop taps her on the shoulder.
What? Behind her are two more officers.
“Excuse me, ma’am,” the cop says. “Are you Dorothea Storm?”
Thea scrunches her forehead. “Uh…yes.”
The cop nods curtly. “I’m Officer Mona King with the Chicago PD. Can you please follow me to a private room? We need to ask you a few questions in connection to a possible homicide.”
19
THEA
“Can you tell us what your relationship was with the deceased?” the detective asks.
“He was my stepfather.”
At least that’s what Emmy called him. I preferred “that bastard Bill.”
“He was the husband of your stepmother, Emelia.”
“That’s correct.”
“Were you with your stepfather the night he died?”
“I was in bed. He and Emmy had a big fight so I went to my room early and closed the door to block out the shouting.”
“Had he been drinking?”
“He always drinks. He says—said—it helps him focus.”
The detective writes in his notebook. “Okay. Did he often fight with your stepmother when he was drinking?”
“I guess so. I never thought much of it. It usually wasn’t an issue.”
“But this means you were one of the last people to see him alive.”
I swallow. “As far as I know.”
“Had he been acting out of the ordinary?”
“Not that I can remember.”
“Right.” The detective looks over his notes. “Would you describe your relationship with your stepfather as positive?”
I frown. “Positive in what way?”
“Were you happy that your stepmother married him?”
I cross my arms. “I was happy there was someone else to help around the farm. Emmy and I were in pretty bad shape when Bill came along.”
“Did you and Bill get along?”
I draw in a breath.
No. We didn’t get along at all.
As abusive as Emmy got after Daddy died, it was nothing compared to what I dealt with at my stepfather’s hands.
But when a man dies under uncertain circumstances, you don’t dredge that shit up.
Because it makes you look suspicious.
I’ve watched enough reruns of Law and Order to know the best move is to keep my mouth shut.
“Yes, we did. We fought sometimes, but the normal amount.”
“What did you fight about?”
“Chores. Doing homework. What to watch on TV, that sort of thing.”
“But nothing serious?”
Another slow breath. “No. Nothing serious.”
“How did you feel when you found out he had died?”
Fucking overjoyed. Glad the planet wouldn’t have to waste one more atom of oxygen on his worthless, abusive existence.
“I’m…devastated.” I fake a sniffle and dab a tissue in the corner of a bone-dry eye.
“I’m sorry…what?” I ask.
“I don’t feel comfortable discussing any more details with you here, ma’am,” Officer King says. “I’ll need you to come with me in private.”
“Am I being arrested?” I ask.
“Of course not. We just have a few questions.”
Aus stands up. “I’m coming with her.”
Officer King shakes her head. “I’m afraid I need Ms. Storm to come alone. We’re only going to take her to a private room in the manor. We won’t be long. She’ll be back in time for the next course.”
I draw in a deep breath to ease my panicking heart.
This is Bill all over again.
Except it isn’t.
Someone is dead. They clearly think I’m connected to it.
“Thea, don’t say anything without a lawyer,” Aus warns.