He Sent Me Overseas to Marry Her, I'm Staying Overseas to Never See Him Again novel · Chapter 22 of 32

Chapter 22: Sixty

Nobody in the arch said a word.

The café owner played it again.

The bolt cutters. The glance over the shoulder. The fleece.

Then a cut to 11:09, the same man coming out fast with a cutting knife in his hand and nothing else.

"He came for something," Oliver said. "Didn't find it. So he took it out on the work."

Zoe went white, then red.

"He was looking for my bag."

"He was looking for whatever he'd been told to look for," I said. "Can you copy that?"

"Already did," the café owner said. "Three copies. My nephew showed me."

I took the first copy to the police station on Monday afternoon, still in my apron.

The officer who'd come at one in the morning watched it twice and wrote down the man's job title from Garland's website.

"We'll be in touch," he said.

I kept the other two copies.

One in Peggy's cellar, under the hides.

One in my coat.

At midnight on Monday, the girl apprentice pulled the last stitch through the last lid and tied it off.

She held up the needle.

Nobody cheered.

Everybody was too tired to cheer.

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