She Dies Tonight (An Artemis Blythe FBI Mystery Thriller Book 1) by Georgia Wagner

Author:Georgia Wagner [Wagner, Georgia]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2022-07-28T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 15

Eight-year-old Artemis shifted uncomfortably next to Helen, watching the people file into the small theater. Her sister, a teenager, watched the crowd with some level of disdain. Helen had always been the smarter of the two Blythe girls, but one wouldn’t have known it in how she lauded Artemis.

But this didn’t stop her from the occasional posture of “instructor.”

“What about him?” Helen said, nodding towards a man with a cane. The old man had wispy facial hair and blinked rapidly behind glasses two sizes too large for his face. He wore a flat cap and walked with a limp, leaning on the cane with a wizened hand.

Artemis studied the man from where she stood in the back of the room, peering through the glass screen of the small sound booth. “He’s... I... I don’t know,” Artemis said slowly.

This answer was never unwelcome.

Helen nodded once. “Alright. It’s good to admit when you don’t know. Pay closer attention, though. Remember what dad told us last year?”

Artemis hesitated, wrinkling her nose. She shifted in the light, baby blue dress with bows along the front. She hated the dress. Hated the clip-on earrings and the curls in her hair. But her father insisted that when they were working, they made an impression.

Helen had managed to avoid the frills—her dress was sleek, dark and, in Artemis’ opinion, very beautiful. In fact, everything about Helen was beautiful. Everyone said so.

After a few particularly obnoxious comments from drunk audience members, Helen now carried a small can of pepper spray and a miniature switch-blade Tommy had provided for her. Both were hidden in her dress.

And while Helen had avoided the frills, she hadn’t been able to avoid the curls. Her hair was naturally wavy, a mane of cascading bronze. How often had Artemis seen her sister tug at one of her bangs, scowling at some puzzle or problem.

And now, her finger was out, curling around a long loop of hair, and she was frowning in the direction of the old man. “You’re missing something, Art,” murmured Helen. Only Artemis’ sister, and Tommy on rare occasions, was allowed to use this pet name for her. She meant it as a compliment.

“I...” eight-year-old Artemis shifted uncomfortably, frowning. And then her eyes suddenly brightened. “He’s faking the limp.” She shot a quick look towards her sister.

More folks streamed through the open double doors at the back of the theater, moving towards their seats. The red padded, faux wood seats were soon filled. The stage they faced was currently empty, but the flickering light above the stage, casting strobing patterns of illumination across the audience, was mesmerizing.

Like moths to a flame, her father often said.

“And how do you know he’s faking the limp?” asked Helen, leaning forward on the desk and beginning to twist at some of the knobs on the soundboard. The two girls were in charge of audio for the evening. Tommy was supposed to be the usher. But their eight-year-old brother was nowhere to be seen. Artemis’ twin often went missing.

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