Sins of the Father: The Victorious Redemption™ Book 1 by Anderle Michael

Author:Anderle, Michael
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9798885410922
Publisher: LMBPN Publishing
Published: 2022-06-16T00:00:00+00:00

* * *

After another brief night of sleep—if she could call it that—Jasmine sat up in the dark. She felt energized instead of tired. She slipped downstairs into the bar, knowing movement was better than sitting still.

It was quiet. Ivan still pottered around. A few local regulars were in their standard positions, sleeping on the tables. The place was immaculate.

Jasmine smiled at Ivan, wondering when he rested, considering she had seen him constantly in the bar every waking moment she’d been down here.

She helped him clear out the riffraff and sat at her table. To his credit, Ivan kept his distance and allowed her to work.

For hours, Jasmine beat her fist against her head, unable to make sense of the mystery. When the sun was up, Jasmine strolled around the block, remaining close to her safe house. It was nice to be out. The fresh air helped her think, activating parts of the brain that she couldn’t trigger by spending her time hiding inside.

On a couple of occasions, she fancied that she saw a lone figure watching her from across the road. As with the other night under the street light, each time she tried to focus and zoom in on the person’s identity, something thwarted her. A bus would cross her path, or a group of people would flock by, and once again the street would be empty.

She returned to the Stryga’s Nest a little after lunchtime. Ivan allowed Jasmine to borrow his laptop, and she searched online for the construction company that might lead her to further clues about Deshawne. She also ran several text and image searches using his first name with different spellings.

The search results yielded very little, and Jasmine grew disheartened. Whoever this man was, if Deshawne was his real name, he had done a fantastic job at covering his tracks.

No social media. No website. No press release articles mentioned him. No businesses listed him as the owner or a partner. Several public records searches netted only questionable results.

When she dug into the latter, none of the people matched the information she had. Most she ruled out when cross-references pulled up photos of other people. The remaining few were all for places well outside Boston. She couldn’t discount them without full verification, but she didn’t think they’d bear fruit.

She’d scribbled down as much of their conversation as she could remember on her papers, and still nothing. At one point, as the pub filled with its typical patrons, she beat her hand against the table. That elicited a few wary glances as they looked her way. She held up a hand in apology and lowered her head, turning her attention instead to her drink and her latest bowl of whatever spicy concoction Ivan had made for her.

Food no longer had flavor or names that mattered. Jasmine hated that she could only judge food by the tingling sensation in her mouth.

This latest recipe was particularly tingly. Even Ivan looked weary when Jasmine asked him to add a little more pepper and chili flakes before he dutifully returned to his little kitchen.

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