[ Highest Rank #101 in Mystery/Thriller ]
Time has passed. Things have changed. Isabeth, Benny, and Faith aren't quite the same. They have blood on their hands, a code they honor, and secrets they keep locked away. The Psychopath Maker knows this an...
Hoppsan! Denna bild följer inte våra riktliner för innehåll. Försök att ta bort den eller ladda upp en annan bild för att fortsätta.
Alex inhaled the musky odor excreted from the pores of old books that were probably locked away in forgotten attics or stored in massive libraries now downsizing. He was trying to do what Isabeth wanted. Act normal. So, he fought the urge to mill over how could've stole his credit card or who killed Fiona. Instead, he stacked books avoiding the whispers of customers wondering if he was a murderer after all.
"Um, excuse me." A young man with close-cut hair and a growing beard called as he strolled up to Alex.
Alex slipped the Scarlet Letter on the bookshelf. "You need help with something."
"The lady upfront." The young man glanced back at Esther with the pixie cut and cat-glasses ringing up Ms. Bynum's stack of cookbooks. "Said you can help me find a copy of Prometheus Bound."
"Prometheus Bound." Alex tossed Wuthering Heights from hand to hand like a baseball.
"Aeschylus." The young man clarified holding his neck.
"I know what it is." Alex scooted around the young man that didn't move an inch. "Are you taking Professor Murdock's class?" Alex stride across the lounge decorated with comfy loveseats and oversized chairs where Alice Helms, Breen Jin, and Patrick McNamara socialized amid open books and laptops discussing the evolution of the derriere and who had the best one in town.
"I don't know who that is?" The young man kept up with Alex's fast pace.
"Oh, I just assumed it was for a class." Alex turned down the last aisle on the right side of the store. "And you were avoiding the Cambridge bookstores."
"It's not for a university; matter of fact I've never been to one."
Alex stopped in the middle of the aisle giving the young man a once over. "You've never been to college?"
"No."
"Tell me your secret." Alex rested his hand on the bookshelf. "How do you live in this town and breakout of your predestined future?"
"I traveled abroad after graduating, stayed in Europe for a couple of years." He scratched his face. "Disappeared off the gossip circuit."
"I've never seen you before, though." Alex knelt scanning his finger along the row of books. "Who's your family? What's your name?"
The young man looked up at the brown sign that read, The Classics. " I'm Aaron Nelson." He coughed stepping back. "I'm the son of a servant."
Alex popped up with the book in hand, "I apologize." He placed his hand on his chest. "I just assumed—"
"He's back there." Alex heard Esther utter. Someone else needed help finding a book they could probably find themselves if they just took the time to use the Dewey Decimal System.
"Like everyone else in this town." Aaron reached for the book.
Alex handed it to him, "Enjoy the book."
Heavy, urgent footsteps bit the hardwood floors. A strange quiet crept down the aisles.
"I will...my muse led me here." Aaron flipped the pages.
The heavy footsteps grew closer, thumping like a battalion headed into battle.
"Well, Dog Ear's is happy to assist you in your literary journey." Alex brimmed a smile.
Tom and Shawn emerged at the end of the aisle stoned-face with their hands on their utility belts.
"Morning Officers." Alex's feet started to bounce but his mind insisted, don't jump to conclusion, boy. "Can I help you with something?"
"Yes." Shawn squared his shoulders. "Agent Anderson would like to speak with you." He rested his hands on his hips.
Alex stepped forward, "Sure."
What do you think Agent Anderson wants to talk to Alex about?
