Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 99132 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 496(@200wpm)___ 397(@250wpm)___ 330(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99132 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 496(@200wpm)___ 397(@250wpm)___ 330(@300wpm)
Huck’s gaze flicked to Laurel. She was leaning forward now, her shoulders tense, fingers curled tight around her glass. Her breath had quickened, and her pulse thrummed visibly in the light vein in her temple. She stiffened as she must’ve sensed the shift, just like he did. Abigail was about to deliver her big, dramatic explanation.
Abigail’s gaze dipped, and she let out a carefully timed sigh, her shoulders slumping as if the weight of the world pressed down on her delicate frame. Huck could almost see the act click into place, like a stage prop lowered for maximum effect.
“Our father was missing for about a year,” Abigail said, her voice trembling, just enough to convey pain but not hysteria. “I discovered that during that time, he was involved with human trafficking across the Canadian border.” Her gaze shifted to Rachel, her expression bleak. “Which you know is near here.”
Rachel’s mouth fell open. “What?”
“Yes.” Abigail nodded, like it pained her to admit it. She reached into her bag and pulled out a folded piece of paper, handing it to Rachel with trembling fingers. Huck’s eyes narrowed. Everything Abigail did was deliberate. This was no exception.
Rachel was practically salivating at the supposed evidence she’d been handed.
“He confessed to me just a day before all this happened,” Abigail continued, her voice dropping to a near whisper. “I was trying to imagine what to do, but I knew he still had one young victim secured somewhere, and I couldn’t let her die.” Her words came out rushed, her eyes wet as if the tears had been simmering just below the surface, waiting for this exact moment. Huck had seen skilled liars before, but Abigail was putting on a master class.
“We’ve finally found her defense,” Laurel murmured. “It’s good. The Tempest County jury pool is no doubt watching.”
“Our father called me after he attacked Laurel,” Abigail said, her voice breaking. “He told me to bring him money or he’d kill the girl. Said that if I told anybody, he’d kill her and disappear. I believed him.” She paused, eyes shimmering with perfectly timed tears. “Her name was Joley McNalley. She was seventeen years old. From Seattle.”
Huck grunted, his grip tightening on his glass. She was good. Too damn good.
“So of course I went,” Abigail added, her voice thick with emotion.
“Of course you did,” Rachel crooned, nodding like they were best friends. “You went to help this girl with no regard to your own safety.”
Abigail shook her head, her features crumpling into what Huck guessed was supposed to be raw vulnerability. “I didn’t care about my safety. I cared about that poor child.”
Laurel reached for her phone and sent a text. “I’m having Nester conduct a background check on a Joley McNalley.”
But Huck wasn’t done watching. Abigail’s performance wasn’t over yet.
Rachel’s voice dropped, all grave concern. “But the girl wasn’t there, was she?”
Abigail shook her head, her shoulders slumping as if finally breaking under the weight of her own helplessness. “No. I tried to find out where he was keeping her, and he said she’d been dead for weeks.” Abigail continued, her voice cracked and strained. “Then he attacked me, and I grabbed the knife off the counter . . .”
“That’s enough,” Vexler cut in, his voice low and smooth. The lawyer leaned forward, placing a firm hand on Abigail’s arm like a father scolding his child. “We definitely have a self-defense situation here, but my client is done talking about it.”
Abigail nodded, her lower lip trembling. With a delicate motion, she dabbed at her eyes, wiping away what was likely a carefully coaxed tear. “Zeke Caine was a monster, but I still pray to God every day for forgiveness for killing him. I didn’t mean to. He hurt so many women. He hurt my sister, and she lost her baby.” Abigail’s breath hitched, her eyes glistening. “Honestly, I was just heartbroken and, of course, terrified.”
“Of course,” Rachel said, her tone syrupy and warm. She turned to the camera with the same gravity she probably used to report a national tragedy. “The Killing Hour is trying to secure an interview with FBI Agent Laurel Snow, as well as Fish and Wildlife captain Huck Rivers, because they were the ones who arrived on the scene first. I believe Captain Rivers actually arrested you.”
“He did.” Abigail let another tear fall. “And Laurel won’t speak to me. She’s so confused about all of this, and she didn’t know what a monster our father was. Not really.”
Huck wanted to puke.
Rachel reached out and patted Abigail’s hand, her own smile settling into the perfect blend of concern and optimism. “I certainly hope you reconcile soon.” She held the moment for several beats, milking it like a pro before turning back to the camera, her face hardening into concerned, resolute lines. “Wait for a preview for our upcoming episode Monday night featuring Sandra Plankton, the girlfriend of slain podcaster Tyler Griggs. She believes the police are involved in his death, and you just won’t believe who’s investigating his case.”