Page 6 of Pleasure Island
My eyes were gritty, heavy with fatigue as I finished clearing the space off. I should probably wash the sheets – and the pillowcase – but there would be time for that tomorrow.
I went to grab the paper that had been folded and left lying on the pillow. I glanced at it, intending to add it to all the other stuff that had been on my bed.
But the picture displayed on the bottom right made me pause.
“What the hell?” I muttered.
Unfolding the paper, I searched out the text that went along with the image, then started to read.
In no time, I was grinning. “Son of a bitch.”
Dropping the paper on the boxes I stacked next to the bed, I lay down with a smile on my face.
Back in high school, my cousin Matthew Jakes had been sentenced to jail for manslaughter. He’d killed his mom in a drunk driving accident. No, that wasn’t anything to smile about.
But the article itself was about hisacquittal. Matt had been innocent the whole time.
He was living in New York now. Shit, that was a far cry from Texas.
I checked the time, then scowled. It was already eleven here.
Way too late to look him up right now, but come first thing in the morning?
I was giving him a call.
