Blast From The Past 3 Read Online Free PDF

now,” J.R. said. “I mean, we should definitely keep alert and bear in mind what we know about them—but I don’t think they’re responsible for any of this… Tommy is a smart guy, and, clearly, he’s relentless—but, to do what he did, he’d need inside help, and it seems more likely that that help came from Gretchen, who also seems pretty damn relentless, given the way she fired people to save her personal reputation. The fact that she fired Evan seems coincidental to me, and it doesn’t really provide motive, other than revenge.
    “But this seems to be about more than revenge, and there’s no connection between Tommy and Evan, so I think following up on Gretchen is still our best option.”
    I considered J.R.’s reasoning, and it made sense to me. Granted, I’d underestimated Stephanie before, but I had to agree that Gretchen’s skill set, connection to Tommy, and possible motives fingered her as the more likely culprit.
    “If you want to keep researching them, that’s fine,” I told Julie. “But I’m with J.R. on this one. I think Gretchen’s the ticket here.”
    Julie sighed and tilted her head a bit. “Okay,” she said. “But, just to be safe—let’s all do something that we should have done earlier.”
    “What’s that?” J.R. asked.
    “Let’s make sure we know who’s who,” she said. “If Trish had shown you Tommy’s picture earlier, we all would have known he was Gretchen’s ex a lot sooner…and maybe she wouldn’t have ended up passed out in his bed… So, let’s all get on the same page here. All of these people—Tommy, Gretchen, Stephanie, and Evan—have online social media profiles. We need to check out their photos to make sure there are no other unexpected connections we don’t know about—and to make sure we’re ready in case we encounter any of them in a dark alley.”
    “Good point,” I said. I walked over and retrieved my laptop, while J.R. pulled out his phone and Julie started scrolling through hers.
    As I was booting up my machine, Julie was mumbling to herself—and then she mumbled to us. “What the hell is a ‘Farm Parm’?”
    Those words sounded strangely familiar, but I couldn’t quite place them, and, from the way J.R. was shaking his head, it was apparent that neither could he.
    “I don’t know,” I answered. “Why?”
    “Gretchen’s profile,” Julie responded. “Someone posted on her timeline about having a ‘Farm Parm’ tomorrow.”
    Just then, something clicked in my head, and I clicked my way to Gretchen’s profile. Though I didn’t tell my friends, I was starting to vaguely remember what a “Farm Parm” was, and I was entirely aware of when and where I’d seen the term before.
    Sure enough, at the top of Gretchen’s timeline, there was a comment from a woman named Liz. Can’t wait till I’m done with work tomorrow , the post read. I’m having a Farm Parm .
    I wracked my brain a bit more… Farm Parm. Farm Parm—marinara sauce, mozzarella cheese, and a sunny-side-up egg atop ten ounces of Kobe beef, if my memory of Burger Bistro’s kitschy menu served me correctly.
    “Hmm,” I hummed. “I have no idea what that is, but it’s probably not important.”
    “Probably not,” Julie chimed back. I watched as she continued to scroll through her phone, and I was satisfied that she hadn’t detected my lie.
    My computer was huffing and puffing, making its wake-up noises. I stared at it aimlessly as the wheels in my head kept spinning. I was coming up with a plan, but I had to keep it to myself if it was going to work.

~ Chapter 7 ~
     
    Julie, J.R., and I spent another twenty minutes or so viewing things on our separate devices, and then we went on to discuss things more, speculate, and share our opinions. We couldn’t quite figure out where to go from there—or, at least, they couldn’t, as I already knew where I was gonna go—so, we decided to end our group brainstorming at that impasse, recollect ourselves, and reconvene