Motorcycle Girl: Book Two

Chapter 20: Chicago

"You should call her." Adelaide says, rubbing her daughter's back.

She told everyone the truth and they were all shocked, to say the least.

"I can't." Odette mumbles. "She probably hates me. After all she did for me, I just...vanished."

"Come on, I'm sure that's not true." Annalise whispers to her. "She seemed to care a lot about you."

"Seemed." She snaps. "Past tense."

"How about I call her?" I ask. "Or the bookstore? Hearing her voice might make you feel better."

She looks down at her hands.

"Will you?" She whispers, peering at me through her wet lashes.

"Of course baby, of course. What's the name of the store?"

"Stone books." She mumbles.

I pull out my phone and google Stone books Chicago.

It pops up with a small little bookstore.

I click the number without hesitation and put it on speaker.

Everyone goes quiet, waiting.

It rings three times and then stops.

"Stone Books, how can I help you?"

It's a very chipper girl who sounds to be young. I look at Odette and she just shakes her head.

"Can I speak to Gweneth please?" I ask.

"Um..." she hesitates. "Okay. Hold on."

I hear a shuffling.

"Somebody wants to talk to you." The girl whispers.

I hear a scuffle, and then, "This is Gweneth."

I glance at Odette, who is staring at the phone with hope in her eyes.

She sounds nice enough.

"Hey." I say. "I wonder wondering if you guys had any French textbooks?" I ask.

There's a pause.

"Who is this?"

"Do you have them?" I ask.

"No." She says. "This is America. I'm sure you can find them on amazon."

"Really?" I ask. "Huh. I never thought of Amazon. Was Amazon around when you gave Odeletta Guillotin a French textbook?"

I hear her gasp quietly.

"Marissa, watch the store, okay?" She whispers.

"Okay." The girl who answered the phone replies.

I hear the sound of a door shutting, and then.

"Who are you?"

"Just a person." I say calmly. "I have information about her, but first, I have to ask you a question."

"Who. Is. This." She says.

She sounds...angry. Protective even.

Odette's hands are over her mouth.

"Did you love her when she lived with you?"

"What?" She asks.

"Did you-"

"Yes." She sighs. "I loved that girl like a daughter, I still do. I haven't heard from or about her in like, six years."

"So you love her?" I ask again.