Read Online Remember the Stars by Natalie-Nicole Bates - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Natalie-Nicole Bates
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along. He walked her into an office and deposited her onto a padded chair behind an expansive oak desk. A harsh light emanated from a desk lamp.
I’m okay, it’s all okay, it’s a mistake , she silently told herself and would not make eye contact with her host. As a matter of fact, she wouldn’t look at him at all. She spotted the telephone and reached for the receiver. It was almost a comfort when the familiar sound of a dial tone buzzed in her ear.
With shaking fingers, she attempted to punch in Logan’s phone number. But her fingers seemed to twist and slip from the buttons. Each time she thought she’d finally entered the number successfully, the phone would not connect. Depressing the receiver, she tried for her parents. To her growing frustration, again, the number wouldn’t connect. Disconnecting once more, she paused and looked up at her host.
The man paced the length of the desk, his hands clasped behind his back. Leah wasn’t sure if the pensive look over his pale features was one of impatience, indecision, or something else.
She looked down once again at the keypad on the telephone, the receiver still clutched in her hand. Suddenly, she dialed 9-1-1. The sound of actual ringing was the most beautiful noise she had ever heard in her life. It would be okay now. But her small sense of triumph soon faded as the phone rang on and on without connecting.
She replaced the receiver back on the cradle and bowed her head. There would not be any help, she knew. The only person who could possibly help her now continued his pacing and mumbled under his breath.
A chill rose on her bare arms and she rubbed them in an attempt to create warmth. What next?
“I’m Leah,” she offered her name, but he didn’t respond.
“You’re the red-haired one,” she blurted the next thought that came to mind.
He stopped pacing and faced her. “Your powers of observation are astounding,” he quipped and tugged on his long red ponytail. He resumed his pacing.
She blinked at his sardonic tone.
“I…I just mean, your brothers, they’re blonds, aren’t they?”
He shrugged his shoulders without answering.
“I’m not trying to offend you—if that’s what your problem is. I’m trying to figure out how I got here.”
Still no reply. A prickle of fear crept up her spine. Was he trying to figure out what to do with her? Maybe the key was to remain calm on the outside. Quake all she wanted inside, but don’t let him see her fear.
“Which one are you?” she asked, attempting to provoke him into conversation while trying to glean some knowledge of her own situation.
“Which what?” he asked.
“Which brother are you? Aren’t there three of you that worked alongside your father here at the funeral home? All of your first names start with an R?”
His eyes narrowed. “Do you know me?” he asked.
“You and your family have made a lot of money off the deaths of my friends and loved ones. I used to see you and your brothers around the corner in the garage washing your Porsches every day.”
A half-smile creased his lips. “You’re one of those private school girls who purposely walked past the garage with your prim uniform blouse unbuttoned to expose your non-existent cleavage while your skirt was up around your cooch. You graduate, take a soft-touch job while you wait for your soul mate slash millionaire to show up.”
“Oh please, you and your distorted view of my life,” she snickered. “I was a proper young lady whose skirt was the requisite one inch above her knee.”
“Yeah right. And you walked past the garage every day because it was on your way home.”
“I only walked past your garage because I spent every afternoon with my grandma…and I loved my grandma very much. Besides, you never saw me,” she said surely.
He placed both hands on the desk and leaned in close to her. His eyes connected with hers. “And how do you know that?”
His eyes were blue, and Leah noticed he had the
I’m okay, it’s all okay, it’s a mistake , she silently told herself and would not make eye contact with her host. As a matter of fact, she wouldn’t look at him at all. She spotted the telephone and reached for the receiver. It was almost a comfort when the familiar sound of a dial tone buzzed in her ear.
With shaking fingers, she attempted to punch in Logan’s phone number. But her fingers seemed to twist and slip from the buttons. Each time she thought she’d finally entered the number successfully, the phone would not connect. Depressing the receiver, she tried for her parents. To her growing frustration, again, the number wouldn’t connect. Disconnecting once more, she paused and looked up at her host.
The man paced the length of the desk, his hands clasped behind his back. Leah wasn’t sure if the pensive look over his pale features was one of impatience, indecision, or something else.
She looked down once again at the keypad on the telephone, the receiver still clutched in her hand. Suddenly, she dialed 9-1-1. The sound of actual ringing was the most beautiful noise she had ever heard in her life. It would be okay now. But her small sense of triumph soon faded as the phone rang on and on without connecting.
She replaced the receiver back on the cradle and bowed her head. There would not be any help, she knew. The only person who could possibly help her now continued his pacing and mumbled under his breath.
A chill rose on her bare arms and she rubbed them in an attempt to create warmth. What next?
“I’m Leah,” she offered her name, but he didn’t respond.
“You’re the red-haired one,” she blurted the next thought that came to mind.
He stopped pacing and faced her. “Your powers of observation are astounding,” he quipped and tugged on his long red ponytail. He resumed his pacing.
She blinked at his sardonic tone.
“I…I just mean, your brothers, they’re blonds, aren’t they?”
He shrugged his shoulders without answering.
“I’m not trying to offend you—if that’s what your problem is. I’m trying to figure out how I got here.”
Still no reply. A prickle of fear crept up her spine. Was he trying to figure out what to do with her? Maybe the key was to remain calm on the outside. Quake all she wanted inside, but don’t let him see her fear.
“Which one are you?” she asked, attempting to provoke him into conversation while trying to glean some knowledge of her own situation.
“Which what?” he asked.
“Which brother are you? Aren’t there three of you that worked alongside your father here at the funeral home? All of your first names start with an R?”
His eyes narrowed. “Do you know me?” he asked.
“You and your family have made a lot of money off the deaths of my friends and loved ones. I used to see you and your brothers around the corner in the garage washing your Porsches every day.”
A half-smile creased his lips. “You’re one of those private school girls who purposely walked past the garage with your prim uniform blouse unbuttoned to expose your non-existent cleavage while your skirt was up around your cooch. You graduate, take a soft-touch job while you wait for your soul mate slash millionaire to show up.”
“Oh please, you and your distorted view of my life,” she snickered. “I was a proper young lady whose skirt was the requisite one inch above her knee.”
“Yeah right. And you walked past the garage every day because it was on your way home.”
“I only walked past your garage because I spent every afternoon with my grandma…and I loved my grandma very much. Besides, you never saw me,” she said surely.
He placed both hands on the desk and leaned in close to her. His eyes connected with hers. “And how do you know that?”
His eyes were blue, and Leah noticed he had the
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