Death eBook 9.8.16 Read Online Free PDF Page A

He ended it with a smug smile and a wink.
    What a smartass. Rolling my eyes, I answered his questions. “Julie Michaels. I’m twenty-eight. Currently, I’m an overpaid tutor/homeschool teacher to the rich and snobbish. Though, after next week, I will be self-employed as co-owner of The Edit Station, an online editing company for indie authors,” I informed Falcone, and then turned to Connor and said the rest. “Heck no to bra size. I’m a Gemini. And he can have the digits because you’re out of luck, slick.”
    “Ouch. Harsh much?” Connor asked with a playful pout. I offered him a slight smile and shook my head. Connor oozed charm that had panties dropping like flies. For some reason though, his antics were amusing, and thankfully I was immune to his charms.
    Apparently used to Connor’s shenanigans, Falcone sighed and continued, “Did they tell you why you have no memory of the event? Were you injured?” He asked with such concern, I was touched and rushed to reassure him.
    “Oh, no. I’m fine, physically anyway. The doctor says I have a repressed memory, which is exactly as it sounds. My brain is protecting itself. I guess the accident was pretty bad, which is terrible to think about. I hope no one else was hurt.” Shaking my head, dread settled in my stomach. I’d been doing all I could to avoid thinking about it. I added, “The memories will return, but until then, they want me to avoid any contact with the news or media.” I winced on the inside, really not looking forward to the time they returned. For my memory to be protecting me the way it was, there was no way anything I discovered would be good.
    “And now? How are you feeling since waking? Not medically, but emotionally. Is anything different?” That time it was Connor who surprised me with the compassionate question.
    I was so thrown, I found myself answering honestly. “Truthfully, yes. Since I woke in the hospital, I’ve felt uneasy and….” It was hard to speak of it because I had tried to repress all my emotions since waking, or else I’d be a mess. I didn’t want to be a mess; as my mother would say, it showed how weak I was. God, why was I even holding back? I should have cried, have fallen to the floor and bawled because it was obvious something bad had happened on that train. Why had I acted as my mother had brought me up? Looking up to the men, my voice a mere whisper, I said, “My home is my safe haven, my sanity, a constant, but that unnerving feeling followed me here. I think that, along with not knowing anything, is what upsets me the m-most.” My voice cracked on the last word as I choked back the tears.
    Falcone leaned forward and gave my knee a comforting touch before he spoke. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
    Connor, thankfully, broke the melancholy moment. It would be embarrassing if I suddenly broke down in front of them. “Okay, Romeo, quit flirting and keep it professional, please,” he huffed.
    With a slight blush, Falcone proceeded with his next question. “Were you supposed to ride home with anyone yesterday?”
    “No. I live alone and meet clients in their homes or public locations that work for studying,” I answered.
    “Do you ride every day? Would you know any of the other regular passengers’ names?” Falcone queried.
    “Yes and no. I ride every day, but I keep to myself. Sorry, it’s just I usually use that time to edit or schedule out incoming manuscripts,” I apologized. I felt bad for not paying better attention to my surroundings over the years. Maybe if I had, I could have been more of a help.
    As if sensing my remorse, Connor tried to ease my mind by asking, “Where is the last place you can recall being before this morning? We can retrace your steps from now until your memories return.”
    That I could answer. “I’ve gone over it a hundred times, but I can only recall as far as tutoring my SAT prep group, from 5:00 p.m. to 7:00 p.m. at the library in the city. I can grab you Troy the