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"You and I are used to dealing with mysteries that live on the page."
"There are no bad guys. There are just complicated people who did bad things."
"I've got enough crime fact in my life. I don't need to read about it."
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When c...
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Driving in the rain is one of my biggest pet peeves. And it's also a frequent occurrence if you live in Washington. So, of course, rain decided to make itself present.
Yay.
That was a strange thing to consider; the fact that even in the most dangerous and foreign circumstances, I was still able to focus on the normal and everyday circumstances of life.
Like the rain. I was driving on a dark and shady road up to Brenker Bluff, the passenger directing me also pointing a gun in my direction to make sure I didn't take a wrong turn. And yet, I was still able to notice the rain. Just last night, I was gazing up at a clear, starry sky, but it was clouded over and pouring buckets now. Fascinating. Unimportant, but fascinating.
Riding in silence, I tried to steer my train of thought to anything but the water falling out of the night sky. Something useful would have been nice - like pondering an escape, or thinking about my friends and family, or praying that I survived - but no. I was stuck on the damn rain.
Breaking my completely pointless train of thought, Mason spoke up. "Well?" he asked.
The fuck? You're about to kill me on a fresh crime scene and that's all you've got? At least a fake sorry would have been nice.
"Well what?" I spat, keeping my eyes on the road.
He wrinkled his nose. "You're not going to do that whole 'last chapter detective thing?'" he queried, waving his hands for emphasis.
With a resolute sigh, I began. "Cox had offered to help your son, but when you went to visit her last week, she told you she struck out. No dice on the help."
A sharp curve in the road appeared, and I steered quickly, swerving to the left. "You were angry and desperate, so you came up with a plan," I stated, picturing the footage of him that I had seen. "A plan that would cover your son's medical expenses and get revenge on Professor Cox." I grimaced, peering over at him. "Am I right?"
He was unwavering, neither moving nor seemingly breathing. "You know you are," he growled.
"Never pictured you the vengeful type, Mason," I replied, hoping my words cut deep.
However, his next words scared me, planting the idea in my brain that he had moved farther from human than my hands could reach. "Seeing your kid die in slow motion changes a person," he said in a monotone voice.
I nodded, continuing. "But what you didn't know is that the guy in the corner of the lab on the day you had your blowout with Cox fancied himself the next Woodward and Bernstein. Nate started tailing you. He saw you steal the plant, and he saw who you sold it to," I accused.
"Rather than go to the police, he came to you," I griped, " to squeeze you to give up the people you sold the stolen goods to.
"College reporter takes down big business for corporate espionage," I mocked, gesturing with one hand as if the words were plastered across my windshield. "Nate might have won a Pulitzer after all. He promised to keep you out of it, but you didn't believe him," I added.
