by M. Leighton
“Wait a minute. You need a sample from both of us to test DNA.”
“Yes,” he said evenly.
“Then how did you do the test? Without a sample from me to test?”
Grayson at least had the decency to look ashamed. “I had a sample.”
At first I felt strangely calm, almost deadly calm. “From where?”
“From the napkin I used to wipe your arm.”
Ah, when I’d bumped my arm. My stitches had bled and I thought it was the nicest thing in the world that Grayson had cleaned me up so carefully. Was I wrong to feel betrayed? Did I have any right to be angry that he’d not only kept the bloody napkin, but turned it in to the authorities for testing?
It didn’t take long for my gut to answer that question. Oh yes! I had every right to be angry.
“Take me home,” I spat from between my gritted teeth.
“Mercy, I—”
“Now!”
“I can’t do that. I need to talk to you before this gets really nasty.”
“Oh, you mean it hasn’t already? I thought we were sharing something special, but all you were doing was collecting evidence! That sounds pretty nasty to me. You let me believe you felt the same way I did just so you could work your case. You let me- you-,” I stammered, beyond furious. But there, just below the angry surface, was the knowledge that, when I’d thought that it couldn’t hurt any worse, it absolutely could. And it did.
“It wasn’t like that, Mercy. It’s not like that. I just have to be very careful right now. For both our sakes.”
“Likely story,” I snapped. “Stop the car.” When Grayson kept driving, I got louder. “Stop the car!”
He pulled over to the side of the road and before he could even come to a complete stop, I jerked the door open and took off running. I couldn’t stand it in that car with him. His presence, his patronizing excuses, the smell of cinnamon that made me ache all over. I couldn’t handle it for one more second.
A crushing weight was squeezing the air from my lungs and splitting my chest wide open, but I pushed myself to put distance between me and Grayson. I had to get away—away from him, away from life, away from myself.
I had no idea where I was running to, but I suddenly became aware of Grayson’s voice right behind me, calling my name. When his hand latched on to my wrist, I tried to pull it free, but his grip was like warm steel.
He pulled me to a stop and spun me around. He looked down into my eyes for a single heartbeat before he wrapped his arms around me and crushed me to his chest.
I instantly burst into tears.
Burying my face in his neck, I sobbed, no longer able to hold all the hurt and the insecurity and the fear inside. It poured out of me in huge, gut-wrenching waves.
The harder I cried, the tighter he squeezed. And the tighter he squeezed, the harder I cried.
I don’t know how long he held me that way. I was sure it wasn’t long enough, though. Forever probably wouldn’t have been long enough.
As soon as that thought surfaced in my mind, I pulled away. I’d never heal if I kept hanging on to the past. And Grayson, by his own choice, was now a thing of the past. He obviously couldn’t have a future with a girl like me.
He rubbed his hands up and down my arms soothingly.
“Please don’t. You’re just making it worse.” I could’ve kicked myself for the words as soon as they were out, but I couldn’t take them back.
“Making what worse?”
I didn’t look up at him, I just wiped at my face with the back of my hand.
When I didn’t answer, he asked again, bending slightly to try and look into my face. “Making what worse?” When I still didn’t answer, he took my face in his hands and made me look at him. “Making what worse?”
“This!” I shouted. “Us.”
“What the- I don’t understand.” I had to give him points for his theatricality because he really did look puzzled.
“Of course you don’t,” I said derisively, pulling my face away from his hands.
“Mercy, what is going on?”
I had hoped to avoid a scene like this, to spare myself the degradation, but it seemed a confrontation was inevitable.
“Look, you’ve made yourself perfectly clear. I know things are different now, but it doesn’t make it any easier. Feelings don’t just go away over night,” I said angrily. Then I added bitterly, “At least they don’t for some of us.”
“What’s that supposed to mean? You know I have feelings for you.”
“Did, maybe.” And at one point, I even thought he was beginning to reciprocate my feelings deeper for him.
“What do you mean ‘did’? I still do. Nothing’s changed. At least for me it hasn’t.”
I wanted to squash the little of glimmer of hope that lit my heart up like fireworks on the fourth of July, but it erupted too quickly for me to stop it.
“But I thought—” I trailed off, confused but cautiously optimistic. Could I have been wrong? Or was I right in that I’d sabotaged myself?
“You thought what? That I could just shut off how I feel because things are getting difficult? Or that I’ve been pretending all this time just to solve a case?”
I thought I could detect a hint of irritation in his voice.
“Well, what was I supposed to think? The way you were acting—”
His expression was incredulous. “You mean the way I was treating you in a professional manner during the middle of a huge and rapidly escalating serial murder case?”
“Well, when you put it like that,” I said, suddenly feeling incredibly stupid.
“Mercy, I don’t know what’s going on between us, but the way I feel about you is- well, it’s not going away. But if I make one wrong move, a killer could go free. I just have to be careful. We both do,” he said tenderly.
In a way, I felt like I dared not believe what I was hearing. But I so desperately wanted to and for that reason, I jumped right back in head first. If it bit me in the butt, I’d have plenty of time to regret it later. Right now, there was just too much going on in my life to deny myself this one tiny slice of pleasure.
“I know. And I’m sorry. I’m probably not helping matters, but I- there’s just so much going on. I feel like my life is spinning out of control. And, honestly I wouldn’t have blamed you if you’d wanted off this roller coaster ride,” I confessed.
One corner of his mouth pulled up in a lopsided grin. “Are you kidding?” he asked, stepping closer to me. “I plan to enjoy this ride,” he said suggestively, winking at me.
My heart melted a little and several other body parts steamed up instantly, all my emotional angst channeled into sexual energy.
I thought he was going to kiss me; I very much wanted him to, like it would somehow make all this real again. But now was not the time and I knew it.
“We need to go. We’ve got a lot to do,” he said, taking my hand and leading me back to the car.
We didn’t have to walk as far as I thought. He’d driven after me for a bit before he got out and chased me down on foot.
When we were both back in the car, I assumed that when Grayson started the engine, we’d be leaving, but we didn’t. He turned toward me in his seat, his face serious again, and said, “Tell me about your family.”
“You’re not going to like this, but I don’t think I’ve ever told you that I’m adopted. The subject never really came up.”
For a second he looked like I’d slapped him in the face. Then his eyes closed and his lips thinned and he dropped his head into his hand, rubbing at his forehead in frustration.
“Well, that’s going to make things a little more difficult,” he said finally. When he looked back up at me, his expression read resignation. “But, when has any of this been easy anyway?” He flashed me a quick grin. “At least you don’t have to suffer through the arrest of one of your adopted parents then. If I have to arrest a family member, you’ll likely not even know them.”
“True. That
would’ve been awful,” I replied. “Is that why you brought me out here like this? Did you think you were going to have to arrest my dad?”
“Possibly. And you have no idea how hard that would’ve been for me.”
I smiled. It pleased me to know that he’d been so concerned for me. Not enough to not arrest my Dad, but concerned for me nonetheless. If he were the type of guy that would let a killer go free just because of personal feelings, though, I don’t think I’d feel the same way about him. That was part of what made Grayson Grayson and why he was such a good cop and a good guy.
“Now we just have to find my real dad.”
“Do you know anything about them? Your biological parents?”
“Not really. Mom doesn’t like talking about them. Apparently they didn’t leave me in the best shape when they abandoned me at the hospital,” I said dryly.
“But they did leave you at a hospital?”
I nodded. “Our Lady of Mercy.”
“Then there’s probably a record. The state of Maryland doesn’t require that any information be given when dropping off a baby, but most of the hospitals are pretty good about getting something. I can check. See what I come up with.”
I wasn’t sure how I felt about that. I mean, now I had very mixed feelings about knowing who my parents were. But it had never been more important so it didn’t really matter how I felt about it. I’d go along with whatever Grayson needed because it was the right thing to do.
It was strange to think that I might be close to knowing who my birth parents are. “I might have a brother or a sister. It’d be so strange if they have a lot of kids, you know? That there might be a whole family out there that I know nothing about.”
I twirled a curl around my finger as I pondered, looking out the window into the dark night. Under normal circumstances, I’d probably be very curious to at least meet my parents. You know, see whose hair and eyes I got, see who I’m built like and whose I smile like. But now, I wasn’t sure I wanted to know. Instead, I might see who’s crazy I got and who’s freak show mind I got. It was probably a case of being better off the less I know.
“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Let me check with the hospital first.”
Grayson collected a variety of facts like my exact date of birth, the date I was abandoned, the date my adopted parents picked me up, the condition I was in. He wrote furiously, noting everything I said in perfect detail.
When he was finished, he flipped the cover back over his notepad and dropped it into the console. When he met my eyes, I got the feeling it was to deliver a little more bad news.
“I don’t know how you want to handle this with your parents. I might need you, like tomorrow, and it might go easier if they know what’s going on. It’s up to you, of course. Just keep in mind that they’ll probably find out eventually and it might be better coming from you.”
Closing my eyes, it was my turn to lean my head against the headrest. Only I was filled with unease more than frustration. I hated what was coming, but I knew Grayson was right. I had to tell them.
“I’ll talk to them tomorrow morning,” I said quietly.
Grayson reached over and squeezed my hand where it lay in my lap. “Good choice. I really do think it’s for the best.”
He smiled down at me, a smile that said he cared. It went a long way toward easing the misery of several other areas of my life. I wasn’t all alone anymore and that made it easy to smile back.
Grayson drove me home and dropped me off in front of the neighbor’s house. He didn’t care if he woke them or not, he just didn’t want to be “that guy” to my parents. I thought that was funny. Grayson afraid of my parents? Ha!
I waved to him as he drove by. He’d waited until I had opened the door and stepped inside before pulling away. As I watched his tail lights disappear, the hair on my nape started to prickle. As I looked around, once again searching the pools of light and trying to look into the shadows, I pulled the glass storm door shut and locked it. Though I couldn’t see anyone, I knew, just knew, someone was watching me.
I quickly shut the door behind me and locked it. I wondered if the person watching me at 2:00 am was the killer. Then I wondered if it was my father. Were they one and the same? And if so, why was he watching me?
When I turned to walk back to my bedroom, I thought I caught movement from the corner of my eye. As I passed in front of the kitchen window, I looked to my left and there, outlined against the moonlight streaming between the curtains, was a silhouette. It was tall and wide and pitch black. It was a man.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
It felt like my heart stuttered to a quick stop before restarting at an alarming rate of speed. Just as I thought it would surely hammer its way out of my chest, the kitchen light clicked on.
Dad was standing at the sink. The look on his face wasn’t fury. I’m eighteen. He can hardly pull that kind of parental stunt on me now. It was a bit of anger mixed with a smidgeon of concern and a lot of disappointment.
He didn’t say a word, just crossed his arms over his chest and stared at me. It was quite an effective way to browbeat me without having to open his mouth. I was already beating myself up and I hadn’t really done anything wrong. At least not like he was obviously thinking I had.
“Did I wake you?” I began, since he apparently was going to hold his tongue and just try to intimidate me.
“No.”
“Then what are you doing up?”
“Where have you been?” His eyebrows were pinched tight over the bridge of his nose.
Here it comes, I thought.
“With Grayson.”
He dropped his eyes and shook his head in disappointment. Hating to be the cause of that look, I hurried to allay his fears before he worked himself up into a twirl.
“But it’s not what you think.”
His expression was less severe, almost hopeful when he looked up at me. “Then what is it?”
“It’s kind of a long story. Are you sure you want to get into now?”
“Yes.”
I could’ve thought of a hundred better times and places to have this conversation, but the choice had been taken out of my hands. There was no way we were going to bed now so I might as well take Grayson’s advice and get the hard stuff out of the way.
I pulled a barstool out at the island and sat down. Taking a calming breath, I launched out into the deep.
“Dad, my—”
“What are you two doing up?” Mom asked from behind me.
I turned to look at her. She was huddled up in her robe, squinting into the light.
“Just talking,” I said casually. If it sounded too interesting, she’d want to stay up, too. She didn’t tolerate sleep deprivation as well as Dad and I did, though, and I knew she’d be really, really grouchy tomorrow if she didn’t go back to bed right away.
“Oh,” she said yawning. I could see the indecision on her face and I knew the instant the battle was lost. She scratched her head sleepily and walked to the cabinet for a coffee mug. She was in it for the long haul. “Don’t let me stop you.”
“In that case, you might want to sit down for this, Mom,” I warned.
She turned to look back over her shoulder at me, anxiety written all over her face. “Let me make my coffee first.”
Dad and I watched her quietly as she heated some water in the microwave and then poured it over instant coffee crystals. When she’d pulled out a chair and perched beside me, I began again.
“Mom, I’ve been out with Grayson tonight.”
“Oh,” she repeated. This was a different oh, though. This one was much more pleased and a little relieved.
“I’ve been helping him with some of his cases.”
Mom and Dad glanced at each other and frowned then looked back at me.
“Why on earth would he need your help?” Mom asked.
“Ever since I was little, maybe eight years old or so, I’ve been able to see murders when I walk over the spot where someone
was killed.” I paused, giving them time to absorb before I continued. “It doesn’t happen all the time, but at least a few times a year. Until recently, though, it had always been people that had been dead a while.”
“Mercy, why didn’t—”
I knew they’d have trouble with this, but I had to get it all out and then they could do whatever they wanted to with it.
“Mom, let me finish. It’ll be easier.”
“Alright,” she agreed hesitantly. “But I was just going to ask why you never told us.”