“No glasses?”
“Lasik,” he said, dipping his chin. “And you look amazing, Sasha. The years have . . . they have been kind to you.”
I laughed as I stepped back to my chair, feeling a bit wobbly in the knees. “Thank you.”
“Why don’t I get a hug?” Miranda pouted.
Jason chuckled as he shrugged off his jacket and draped it over the back of his seat. He had a wiry, tall frame and that hadn’t changed. “Maybe because I see you like twice a week and I haven’t seen Sasha in a decade.”
“Whatever. I should get a hug every single time you see me.”
He shook his head as he folded his hands on the table. My gaze dropped and I saw a glimmer of a gold band. He was married? His brown eyes coasted over my face. “I almost can’t believe you’re sitting here. Wow. It’s been too long.”
“It has.” I wet my lip, deciding I needed to get over the hard part. “I just want to say I’m sorry for the way . . . for the way I left things after everything that happened. You were my friend. You tried to be there for me, and I—”
“It’s okay.” He waved his hand. “You don’t need to apologize.”
“No,” I insisted. “I do.”
Jason looked over at Miranda. “Tell her she doesn’t need to apologize.”
“She needs to apologize,” she replied.
“I’m sorry,” I offered again. “Sincerely.”
“I don’t think it’s necessary, but I accept.” Jason looked up to his left as our waitress appeared. After placing an order for a bottle of white wine, he turned back to me. “So Miranda was telling me you had some problems with your car. If you have any questions once the adjuster shows up, call me. I can help you out.”
“I’ll do that.” I paused when the waitress appeared with the wine and took our orders. “So, I see a wedding band. When did you get married?”
“Oh boy.” Miranda moved his glass closer to him. “Probably should’ve told you about that.”
I frowned.
“This?” He looked down and he smoothed his right hand over his left. “I got married about six years ago. I don’t think you ever met her. Cameron wasn’t from around here,” he explained. “We’re actually separated right now. She’s been visiting family in Ohio.”
“Oh! I’m sorry . . .” Trailing off, I slid a sideways glance in Miranda’s direction. She was studiously sipping her wine. That would’ve been great information to have on hand. “I didn’t know.”
“It’s okay.” Jason shrugged it off, but I wondered if that was true. He’d been a quiet and kind boy in college. Not overly sensitive, but he was someone who I pictured was in it for the long haul when he got married. “Anyway,” he said, clearing his throat. “What about you? Was there anyone you left behind in Atlanta?”
“No.” I picked up my wine. “No one I was serious with.”
“Cole stopped by and visited her Saturday night,” Miranda announced.
“Miranda,” I sighed, flipping my gaze to her.
Surprise flickered across Jason’s face. “Really?”
“Yep. He invited her out to dinner. She said no.” Miranda raised her wine glass at me. “I told her she should reevaluate that decision.”
What happened to her understanding if I didn’t want to go out with Cole? I guessed that hadn’t lasted beyond her first sip of wine.
“Huh.” Jason sat back, folding his arms loosely. “I had no idea Cole was still around here. Haven’t seen him in ages.”
I didn’t know what to say.
“He was a good guy, right?” Jason set his glass down. “And you seemed to really like him back then. Might be good to catch up with him. Not like it could hurt anything.”
I opened my mouth, but what could I say to that? He was right. Having dinner with Cole couldn’t hurt anything. I’d just needed to check the irrational fear, which was easier said than done.
A shadow fell over our table, and I looked up. The man from the other table, the one with the red tie, stood there. Up close, I pegged his age as midfifties. His face was losing its definition, softening at the jowls, and his brown hair thinning at the peak. His gaze, slightly beady, darted around our table and he nodded at Jason. “Hello, Mr. King and Ms. Locke.” His stare landed on me. “Miss Keeton?” he asked, his tone pitching high on my last name.
Who was this man?
I glanced over at Miranda, who eyed me over the rim of her wine glass. No help there. “Yes?”
He smiled tightly. “You don’t recognize me, do you? Understandable. It’s been a long time.”
My helpless gaze swung to Jason. He shifted to the side, away from the man. “This is Mark Hughes—Mayor Mark Hughes,” Jason explained.
“Hello.” I had no idea who Mark Hughes was, but he was the mayor, so I figured I should smile, and I did.
Mayor Hughes buttoned his blazer. “When you lived here, I owned the hardware shop in town. Still do, but a little busy these days to actually be running it.”
I did vaguely remember the hardware shop, but his face was pretty much still pulling up a blank, so I continued to smile as I nodded, and hoped my rib eye arrived soon.
“Such a surprise to hear that you were coming back to town. Your mother mentioned it when she was at the chamber of commerce meeting last week,” he explained, and I couldn’t fathom how or why that would’ve come up during a conversation with the mayor, but I guessed Mom had just been excited. “I’m hoping there won’t be any . . . issues with your return.”
“Issues?” I repeated, glancing around the table. “I’m not sure what kind of issues you’re referencing.”
“Well, you’re kind of a celebrity around these parts. At least to the media you are.” Mayor Hughes’ shoulders squared while I replayed what he’d just said to make sure I’d heard him correctly. “After all, you are this sensational real-life survivor story and I’m sure once some realize you’re here, they’d like to capitalize on that.” There was a pause. “Maybe you’d like to capitalize on that.”
Miranda cocked her head to the side, lowering her glass; it looked like she’d almost dropped it.
“Excuse me?” I said with a shocked laugh. The back of my neck tingled again, but it was a different feeling than nervousness. It was a wave of irritation.
“Mayor Hughes,” Jason started, placing one hand on the table. “Sasha isn’t—”
Raising a hand, I cut Jason off even though I appreciated his attempt to step in. I didn’t need someone speaking for me. “Nothing about what I experienced is what I’d consider sensational nor something I would want to relive, even if I were to profit from it.”
Mayor Hughes’ hollow cheeks flushed. “I’m sorry if I’ve offended you.”
I met his stare, because yes, he had offended me, and I wasn’t feeling very forgiving at the moment. Not when my stomach was grumbling.
He lowered his voice as he looked around. “I just don’t want the past being dragged back up, Miss Keeton. I think you’d appreciate that.”
“You’re doing a fine job at not dragging the past up yourself,” Miranda pointed out with a sarcastic smile. “Just want to throw that out there.”
Mayor Hughes ignored her comment. “Our town suffered greatly with the whole Groom business—”
“The town suffered?” Another weird laugh was bubbling up my throat.
“And it took years to erase the stigma and fear,” he continued. “I don’t want to see us losing ground because of one wrong well-meaning conversation with the wrong person.”
My mouth dropped open. Did he honestly believe that I’d speak to anyone in the press about what happened when I hadn’t given one interview in my entire life?
“I’ll leave you all to your dinner,” Mayor Hughes said, backing away. “Have a nice evening.”
Miranda raised her middle finger when he turned his back but chirped happily, “You too!”
“Jesus,” I muttered, picking up my glass. I downed half the wine in a nanosecond. “That guy�
�s a dick.”
“He’s normally pretty laid-back, but I think he’s a little overstressed right now,” Jason commented. “Especially after what happened this morning.”
“Jason,” Miranda warned in a low voice.
I frowned as I glanced between them. “What?”
“Nothing.” He cast his gaze to his wine glass.
“What happened this morning?” Sitting forward, I plopped my elbows on the table. “Come on. You have to finish what you’re saying.”
“I don’t know.” Jason arched his brows as he ran his finger down the stem of his glass. “Miranda might smack me.”
“I might smack you anyway,” she shot back with a shake of her head.
“What, Jason?” I persisted, ignoring the familiar teasing tone between them.
Sighing, he looked up at her as she pursed her lips. “She’s going to hear about it anyway,” he said. “You know that.”
“But it doesn’t mean she needs to hear about it right now.” Miranda picked up her glass and downed the contents. Placing the glass on the table, she met my stare. Dread crept down my spine. “Especially after all of that.”
“Actually,” I said slowly, getting more irritated, “I want to hear about it right now.”
“A woman went missing out of Frederick at the beginning of the month,” he explained, repeating what I’d already heard on the radio. “Did you know about that?”
I nodded. “Not a lot but I heard about it.”
“Well, there was an update, and I only heard about it because the boys—the troopers—always get coffee at the Grind. It hasn’t gone public yet. Probably will by tonight or tomorrow, but I told Miranda when she had a lunch break today. I thought you needed to hear it before it hit the news.” Jason’s brown eyes met mine, and the dread increased, unfurling in my stomach like a noxious weed. “They found her . . . her body early this morning.”
“Oh God.” I pressed my hand to my mouth.
“Right now they think it was someone she knew. I mean, that’s what it normally is,” Jason continued, but the wry glint to his eyes warned me there was more.
I stiffened as I lowered my hand to my lap. “What aren’t you telling me?”
“It’s probably just a coincidence,” Miranda said softly.
My heart tripped up. “What?”
“It’s where they found her body, Sasha. It was off of Route 11,” Jason said, and I jerked in my seat. “Back near the old water tower, where the . . . the Groom used to leave the bodies.”
Chapter 7
I’m slow to wake up. It feels like I’ve been asleep for days and it takes time to pry my eyes open. The room is dark, so dark I can’t see anything. Not even an inch in front of my face. My throat feels terrible, like sandpaper, and my head is pounding. Confusion swirls inside me. I’m cold, too cold. There’s a draft rolling over my skin, bare skin. Where am I? I start to sit up, but my arms and legs don’t move.
My heart kicks up as I try again, realizing that something is holding me down—down on a mattress. It hits me then. I remember! Walking to my car. Seeing the van. Hearing the door open—
Panic explodes inside me, clamping down on my chest and throat. I struggle against the bonds. Something metal—the bed frame—rattles. Pain spikes along my wrists and ankles, but I don’t care. I have to get out of here. I have to find a way—
“You’re awake.” A voice carries out from the darkness. “I was beginning to worry.”
I stop breathing as I stare into the nothing that surrounds me. Ears prickle as I hear soft movement. The bed shakes and dips. My eyes widen and my heart beats faster than it ever has.
A hand touches my cheek, and I shriek at the contact, pushing away, but getting nowhere. Oh no. No, no, no.
“Don’t,” he orders. “I don’t want us to fight. It’s the last thing I want.”
Fear digs in deep with its claws, taking hold of me, and only one hoarse word gasps out of me. “Please.”
The hand slides into my hair, the touch oddly gentle. Approving. “That’s my bride.”
I didn’t go back to sleep after having another nightmare. This time I didn’t even stay in bed. I went out into my living room and turned the TV on. Some late-night infomercial about a food processor that could apparently save the world was on, but I wasn’t really paying attention as I sat on the couch, wrapped in the soft throw.
I was thinking about the Groom.
He’s dead.
If he weren’t, he would be in his sixties now. That didn’t mean he wouldn’t be able to continue doing what he did, but I imagined that as he grew older, it would be more difficult.
I never saw the Groom’s face the entire time I was with him. It was either completely dark in the room or he blindfolded me. I’d only seen what he looked like when I was recovering in the hospital and the federal agents brought in a picture of him for me to look at. I avoided all media surrounding him and me, and I only saw his face once, but his image was cemented in my memory.
So when I dreamt of my time with the Groom, he sometimes had a face even though I never saw it while I was with him.
I shivered as I tucked my knees against my chest. Deep down, I knew that this poor woman’s fate had nothing to do with the Groom, but I couldn’t stop where my thoughts were going, especially after the pretty and super skinny brunette news anchor had gone there. What had she said? The body was found in the infamous location used by the Groom to dump the bodies of his victims.
Dump the bodies.
Closing my eyes, I pressed my lips together. There were only a few phrases I hated more than that one. Like someone was out dumping trash along the road. These were innocent women—six innocent women who were sisters and daughters, friends and lovers. They weren’t something, even in death, that could simply be dumped like an empty fast-food bag.
But what happened to this woman wasn’t because of the Groom. He was dead, because I wasn’t. Knowing that also meant that it was a coincidence that this poor woman’s body was found in the same location favored by the Groom.
But that didn’t make me feel any better.
I opened my eyes and let out a shaky breath. Rising from the couch, I walked over to the window overlooking the front lawn. I pulled back the curtain and pressed my forehead against the cool window.
The run-in with Mayor Hughes replayed as I stared out over the dark grounds. Did he really think I’d talk publicly about what happened with the Groom? I couldn’t understand how anyone would even think that was a possibility—
A shadow blurred across the lawn, disappearing into the hedges. I jolted back from the window as my stomach pitched. The blanket slipped off my shoulders. Then I jerked forward, yanking the curtain back.
My heart raced as I scanned the still grounds below. What had I seen? I wasn’t sure. The shadow had appeared person-sized, but it was so fast that I couldn’t be positive. I couldn’t be certain that I’d seen a thing.
I stood at that window for several minutes, waiting to see if anything moved, but other than branches from the oak trees lining the driveway, there was nothing.
“God.” Dropping the curtain, I turned and bent down, picking up the blanket. Now I was seeing things.
Was coming back here a mistake?
“No,” I whispered to the room. Coming back here had been the right thing to do; the only thing.
Walking past the couch, I picked up the remote and turned off the TV. I went into the bedroom and flipped on the nightstand lamp. Sitting down on the edge of the bed, I picked up the small rectangular card.
I’d looked at it so much that I practically knew the words and numbers by heart.
Smoothing my thumb over the card, I thought back to what Miranda had said about me coming home. She probably hadn’t thought twice about the words, but they were simple and powerful.
She’d said I came home to start living.
The photo of the woman they found started to form in my thoughts. It was the photograph used for her hospital I
D. She had been young, early thirties, maybe late twenties. Light brown hair highlighted with blond streaks. She’d been pretty. Her smile was
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