Page 73 of Broken Lines

“Of his house. But I can get some of him, too.”

My escape plans vanish in the face of actually owning this. Of actually securing this story. Of final seizing something for my own without Judy wrecking it.

“Fuckingoutstanding. You got cell service in…where the fuck are you again?”

“Maine.”

“Whatever. Send me what you’ve got so far.”

I grin as I paw through my wet clothes until I snatch up the plastic Ziplock bag…which currently holds my wallet.

And nothing else.

My heart sinks as I start to frantically shove my stuff around the bed, shaking out t-shirts and my spare jeans to see if it the phone is there. I groan to myself as my face falls. Fuckme, did I lose it in the boat or something?

“Melody?”

Think. Think. Think…

When it finally clicks, my heart drops into my stomach.

I didn’t lose it over the side of the rowboat. Only, diving into the freezing cold North Atlantic might be a preferable place to go back and fetch it than where I just remembered it is.

Jackson’s house. I freaking left it atJackson’shouse, in the kitchen when I took my earbuds out after finishing cleaning.

SHIT.

“I—crap, you know what?” I sigh into the motel room phone. “No service.”

Chuck swears. “WiFi? You can email them to my—”

“No WiFi, I’m afraid.”

He sighs heavily.

“Christ, kid, where the fuck are you, the arctic circle?”

“I heard there’s a cafe with a hotspot that opens tomorrow,” I lie, mentally scrambling to come up with a plan to somehow getbackto King Asshole Island and get my fucking phone back.

He grunts.

“Fine. That’ll have to work. But while you wait, I want more pics, too. Get me something of the guy himself, Melody.”

“You bet, Mr. Garver.”

He exhales slowly.

“Goddamn, you really found him?” He chuckles. “This is gonna be fucking huge, kid. HUGE. Get me the rest of this damn story.”

“Definitely.”

“He knows you’re the press?”

I nod. “Yeah, he knows.”

“And he’s consented to a story?”

I wince.

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