“Convenient. No witnesses. Just like when she disappeared,” Harris says. “I don’t believe for a goddamn second that she can’t remember anything.”
Grace lifts her head, her fingers so tight on mine, one of my knuckles cracks from the pressure. “Believe what you want,” she says, her voice soft but mostly steady. “It’s the truth. AJ had to tell me my own name. My entire life is…blank until that morning. Until AJ was holding me in the back of a car and everything hurt.”
Harris nods at her right hand where it rests on the table. At the thick scar visible around her wrist. “You were tied up. Probably for a long time. Stabbed. With a head injury. And you just…let a strange man you didn’t know put you in the back of a car?”
“I…” Grace shifts her gaze to mine, and a hint of a smile curves her lips. “Yes. Clearly some part of me knew I could trust him.”
The chief scribbles something across the page only Hardison can see. The change in Nate’s expression is subtle. A brief tightening around his eyes. A tic in his jaw until he gets himself under control.
“Captain Stone,” he says, a smug edge to his voice that better be a fucking act, “did it ever occur to you that by bringing your wife anywhere but the hospital, you’ve compromised any evidence she may have had on her person at the time she reappeared?”
Parker unzips her backpack and withdraws an evidence bag. “Here’s the dress she was wearing. Sealed, signed, and dated by me and Stone. Her nails were clean. I’m not a fuckin’ rookie, partner. And you know it.”
“I don’t care if this was signed by the goddamn Pope,” Harris sputters. “You still broke chain of custody.”
My eyes narrow on the man who stopped us from going to the cabin the day Grace disappeared. I dedicated a corner of my crime board to the theory that he’d ordered those stakeouts on purpose. But I never found a single shred of proof. He’s an asshole, but he’s clean.
I lean forward, letting Harris see the full force of my anger. “And I’d do it again. We’re done answering questions, Chief. It’s your turn. How’d you know she was back? Because I sure as shit didn’t tell you, and neither did Parker.”
Harris shifts in his chair like he’s not sure I should be privy to that information. But after a long moment, he meets my gaze. “Marvin told me.”
“Marvin?” He could’ve claimed a psychic pigeon whispered in his ear and I’d have been less surprised. “How the fuck did he know?”
“He was worried when you called out this week.” Harris shrugs. “You know how he is.”
“If you mean a busybody with a hero complex,” Parker mutters, “yeah. We know.”
Harris ignores her. “He stopped by your place night before last with a bottle of whiskey. He reckoned the anniversary of Grace’s disappearance was weighin’ on you, and saw you with a blonde who looked a lot like your missing wife. Figured you’d finally broke.”
“And he waited an entire day to call you?” I ask. “That dog don’t hunt, Chief.”
Harris closes the file in front of him. “Put yourself in his shoes, Stone. Would you tell me if you thought Elmore was losin’ her grip on reality? He only confided in me when you didn’t answer his call yesterday.”
Fuck.
I pull out my phone and check the history.
Missed Call From: Marvin Kinkaid, 1:07 p.m.
Grace’s physical therapy starts at one. By that time, I would have been on the treadmill, trying to outrun my demons. The ones who keep whispering in my ear that her captors are still out there. Just waiting for the right time to finish what they started.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Grace
AJ’s feet hit the treadmill, strong and steady, as I open the door to my studio.
Yesterday’s trip to the station left me exhausted and shaky, so, between naps, I spent that afternoon swiping through photos from our life together. And today, the headache I’ve had since Friday night finally lifted.
Twice during the night, I woke in a cold sweat, gasping for air. The first time I managed to stay quiet enough AJ didn’t hear me. But the second…I couldn’t stop crying. His arms were around me in seconds, his voice in my ear steady and calm.
“You’re home. You’re safe. You’re loved.”
When I finally caught my breath, he’d begged me to talk to him. To share even one tiny detail from the nightmare. But the images were too slippery. Too jagged and terrifying for me to hold onto. So I’d buried my face against his bare chest and let the warmth of his skin banish the ice from my veins.
Through the window, the lake shines in the thin winter sunlight. Belle stands on the deck, barking at a Canada goose nesting in one of the large flower pots at the edge of the lawn.
“That’s right, sweetie. Keep your distance. Wouldn’t want you getting attacked again.”
