When Sarah Wright's day begins moving backward, she must uncover the truth about her mother's death before time catches up with her.
★----★----★
It's no surprise that chronically late Sarah Wright wakes up late. Unfortunately for her, she's about t...
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There is nothing significant to me about eight in the morning. In fact, if I could wake up in the afternoon for the rest of my life, I would. I'm what most would consider a night owl. My father hated it when I was in high school because that meant I would miss the bus three out of five days a week. There has never been anything I considered worth being awake for at that ungodly hour, so there's no reason in my mind that explains that creepy ass clock or Professor Anthrop's insinuation that I should know what the hell is going on.
"Surely, you must know something." The professor says, "I've been looking into the matter for some time and you became my solitary lead with any promise. Mind you, one's repeated demise tends to make the prospect of information gathering... limited."
Max leans against the wall with an annoyed huff, "I told you I'd figure it out, Father."
"That is an admirable gesture, surely, but I'm sorry to say I'm having a hard time putting my faith in you, this being, in fact, my final hour."
"Watch out everybody, Carl Anthrop's set his eyes on Father of the Year." Max paces, hands waving around as if he's grandstanding in front of an audience. "Here we stand, humbled in the presence of the world's greatest anthropologist with one foot in the grave, and yet he still can't muster a drop of positive reinforcement. Or are you egotistical enough to believe you can avoid your fourth death all by yourself?"A wry smile spreads across Max's face, and he looks almost sinister. "Ill-equipped as I may be, I'm the only one who can help you."
The professor's face is scarlet, and I can tell a can of worms has been opened, steeped in years of family drama that I want nothing to do with—God knows I have tons of my own.
"Well, that's something, isn't it?" I ask, hoping to steer the conversation back to the present.
The professor takes a deep breath as he inspects his watch again. "What is, dear?"
"That your son and I are unaffected by whatever this is." I offer Max a small smile, hoping he'll shelf his animosity toward his father and help me figure this out. "And now, there's the connection with my mother and the clock. It's just a guess, but it seems like everything points back to Herringbone Cave."
"I am almost certain you are correct, Miss Wright, but at the moment, I am proving to be an unreliable source of information." He places a hand on his chin and thinks for a moment. "Although I do have something related to Celeste that may be valuable." He reaches into his desk and produces a large envelope, which he slides in my direction.
I hesitate. Do I want to know how many secrets my mother had? Something inside me tells me I deserve to know, and with hands shaking, I take the envelope.
"How convenient!" Max stares at his father like he wants to choke him. "The time comes when I actually need you to keep talking, and you just can't seem to find the words."
"You've misunderstood," the professor shakes his head. "Something is stopping me from doing so. My memories are clouded on the subject. It's as if I know no more than either of you. Yet, I'm certain that can't be right."
