Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 128307 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 642(@200wpm)___ 513(@250wpm)___ 428(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128307 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 642(@200wpm)___ 513(@250wpm)___ 428(@300wpm)
I know that better than anyone.
“Did police surveil the area and speak to any witnesses? Perhaps they heard the same thing Cameron did?”
“Yeah.” He pushes the button of the recently replenished coffee percolator. “No one heard anything. Most of the residents were asleep, and those who were awake stated that they only heard screeching tires and the scuffle that followed.”
I confirm I heard him with a chin dip, then keep reading. Considering Grayson’s age and physique, he did a remarkable job defending Cameron. It was five assailants against one, and he held them off for almost ten minutes.
I murmur my thanks when he places a chamomile tea on the island before I scan the pages until I find the pathology report on the blood found at the scene of the burned-out van.
Though my sigh is silent at learning the blood was Cameron’s, Grayson still notices it. “There was no bone or organ matter in the blood.”
“Any tissue matter?” Even though I hate his downcast expression, I need to know precisely what they found. If she had been shot, there would be bone or organ matter, but knife wounds might only look like a pool of blood.
Grayson wets his dry lips before shaking his head. “The only tissue logged into evidence was from the scrapings they took from under my nails.”
“You scratched one of the perps?”
Grayson’s solemn headshake dashes my optimism. “While I was endeavoring to get Cameron away from them, I didn’t realize how hard I must have grabbed her.”
Oh, Grayson. My heart breaks for him. So much so that I don’t protest when the anger he has no right to issue himself sees him snatching Cameron’s file out of my grasp before he stalks back to the living room minus the caffeine he needs to put hours into her case before calling it a night.
Instead, I wait for the percolator to finish before pouring half into a travel mug and placing it on the coffee table that once again houses hundreds of reports, blueprints, and witness statements.
Although I don’t have access to the real file in Cameron’s case, I still have access to the many reports lodged about her abduction over the past seventeen years. I have plenty to work with, so I’m not at all surprised when the next few hours tick by at the speed of light.
I use the time well. While reviewing Cameron’s file, I look for matches to abduction cases that share the same MO. I make a note of some leads that will probably go nowhere but are still worth investigating to keep her case relevant, and I’ve refilled Grayson’s travel mug four times.
I am refilling the percolator’s water tank when a faint rustle projects from behind me. When I twist toward the noise, Grayson props his shoulder on the doorjamb between the kitchen and the living room before he drags his tired eyes down my body. “It’s late, Mace, and you’re only weeks from enduring one of the most tiring experiences of your life. You need to rest.”
I shrug as if the dark rings circling my eyes will clear away with makeup wipes. “I’ll go to bed soon. I want to finish the report I’m reading first.” When he gives me a look as if to say, You look like shit, I purse my lips. “I’m tired. There’s no point in lying about that. I am just not comfortable enough to consider sleeping yet.”
For once, he appears lost.
The knowledge that I finally know something about pregnancy that he doesn’t makes me talk freely. “It’s… heavy.” What? I said freely, not smartly. Realizing I will never be one to speak cordially with this man, I blurt out, “Anytime I sit, it’s like the baby’s head is going to fall out of my…” A cough completes my reply.
A hint of a smile graces Grayson’s lips. I’ve missed it greatly for the past four-plus hours.
After a beat, which feels more like minutes than seconds, Grayson pushes off his feet and enters the kitchen. “Can I try something?”
I nod without pause for thought.
“It is a trick my father did for my mother all the time.” His words tickle my ear when he walks around me. “We were never tall enough to help our mother with this.” I crank my neck and peer up at him when the warmth of his body heats my back. “Can I…?” His eyes finish his question. He is seeking permission to touch me.
Incapable of speaking for the fear I will lodge my foot into my mouth again, I hum my agreement.
Grayson smiles faintly before he curls his arms around my body and then places his hands low on my stomach. I’m confused until he takes the weight of my stomach in his hands. Then I feel nothing but sheer relief.
“Oh my god.” I moan as the sensation roaring through me far exceeds anything I’ve experienced in the past decade. “That feels amazing.”