I can’t pull my gaze away from that moon.
The wind howls louder, and something bright flickers outside the big picture window, finally breaking whatever hold the drawing has on me. It’s the moon shining down between the willow trees. Not full. But…a fair bit more than a sliver.
I unlock my phone and pull up a lunar calendar.
Oh, my God.
The last full moon was the night before someone dumped her body on the doctor’s doorstep.
This wasn’t a random drawing.
She didn’t lie to me. She doesn’t remember this place. But I reckon that’s her mind protecting her from what happened there.
I snap a quick picture and file it away with the ones Jasper took down in Mexico. It’s another clue for the board hidden in my office closet. One way or another, we’re gonna find out who took her. And on that day, they’ll die screaming.
Chapter Thirty-Three
AJ
I stand at the counter, throwing together a salad to go with the pizzas Parker ordered when she left the station. “Ugh,” she says as she twists the top off a bottle of Shiner. “Delivery’s running late. Still fifteen minutes out. You need help in here?”
“Nah. Go sit down. Grace is probably gettin’ tired of only havin’ me to talk to.”
Parker scoffs, but heads for the overstuffed recliner next to the couch, kicks off her boots, and settles in. “How’s the PT going?” she asks.
Lifting her left hand, Grace taps her thumb and pinky finger together. “I couldn’t do that two days ago. Belle’s happy I can throw a tennis ball for her now. Since I can’t take her running anymore…”
The anguish in her voice breaks me. Dr. VanHorn doesn’t have all her test results back yet, but she sent us a preliminary report yesterday morning.
The cartilage in Grace’s right knee is almost completely gone. Her left is only marginally better.
Even though the idea of her running scared us both, when I told her we could go out together once she was stronger, she’d been excited to try. Learning something she’d once loved had been taken from her was devastating.
Belle hops off the couch and beelines for the doggie door. She’s finally comfortable leaving Grace’s side for short periods of time, but she still won’t let me put her in her crate—even when we’re only in the next room.
Parker toys with the end of her braid. “So, when you can go out in public again, what do you want to do first?”
Grace hums as she flips through several photos on the tablet in her lap, landing on one of my favorites. A selfie of the two of us at one of Austin’s more unique spots—a vintage arcade in the middle of an outdoor shopping complex. “Maybe the Punch Bowl? We look so happy here. It’s…almost familiar. I don’t remember it, exactly, but sometimes when I look at this picture, I think I can hear the pinball machines.”
Leaning forward, Parker nods. “Good choice. The Punch Bowl is a hoot. I sent Hardison there a couple of months ago after he said there were no good first date spots in this town. He changed his tune right quick after that.”
Grace laughs, the sound lighter than I’ve heard in days. “I do want to go to the art supply store. I’m sure all my paints dried up a long time ago.” Her smile fades as her fingers skim her cheekbone. “Much like my skin. Wherever I was, I clearly didn’t have moisturizer. AJ saved everything of mine in the bathroom, but…” She wrinkles her nose. “I didn’t know eye cream went bad.”
“Oh, shit!” Parker says. “That’s half the reason I came over tonight. I stopped at Niemens after work. Got you all the good stuff. But I left the bag in the car. Give me two shakes.”
She tugs on her boots as I carry the salad bowl to the dining room table.
The front door opens, but the soft sound is quickly followed by a sharp crack, and a voice that sends ice flooding my veins.
“Stone! Get your lyin’ ass out here!” Chief Harris bellows.
The salad bowl hits the table, and I race for the living room.
“Chief, stop!” Parker shouts. She grabs his arm as I skid around the corner, but he shakes her off and stalks over to Grace.
“Well, it truly is a blessed day,” he says, his voice so sharp, it could cut granite. “Grace Stone, as I live and breathe.”
All the color drains from Grace’s cheeks. She scrambles off the couch, but her feet tangle in the throw blanket, and she stumbles. Her knee slams into the coffee table, and she crumples to the floor with a whimper.
