by Marci Bolden
Hold on to that. Good plan. But it didn’t work long.
As Holly drove back to the HEARTS office, she remembered the first time Eric Fredrickson had met with her. The police had hit a dead end, and Eric was convinced they’d stopped looking. She reassured him they hadn’t—they wouldn’t, not yet—and agreed to help him any way she could to locate his wife.
That had been her mission in life for the last two weeks. Julia Fredrickson had consumed her. Holly thought she knew more about that woman than she knew about herself. She’d analyzed her habits, her friends, her accounts.
And nothing ever pointed to a shallow grave in a wooded area of a public park.
Holly frowned when she found the parking lot half-full. She needed to be alone, but she knew her team well enough to know they were about to start hovering. She sucked her lungs full of air and then pushed it out and forced herself to go in. She needed to file this case away, and she didn’t want to put it off. She hadn’t been helping with the other cases HEARTS was working. Not as much as she should have been, anyway. She needed to get back on board and start pulling her weight on all their cases, not just hers.
The chatter from the conference room quieted, and Eva stepped into the doorway.
“She’s here,” she said to the other women.
Holly headed her way. Eva stepped aside, and Holly entered the conference room. There were aluminum pans of food, but they were all covered, and a stack of plates sat waiting to be used. “You didn’t have to wait for me.”
“Jack called,” Alexa said. “We’re so sorry, Hol.”
“He shouldn’t have.”
“He’s worried about you,” Eva interjected. “He knew you’d head this way. He didn’t want you to be alone.”
Holly gave a dismissive laugh as her eyes moved to the wall. There was a blank section where there had been images of Julia and Penelope. A cloud of guilt covered her. “That might not be Julia.” Her statement was true. There was a chance. But she didn’t believe it. Neither did anyone else. Looking around the room, they all knew as well as she did. That body that had been dead and buried for so long was Julia Fredrickson.
“You did everything—”
“I know.” Holly cut off Eva’s attempt to make her feel better. She didn’t want to feel better. She deserved to feel like shit. Julia’s and Penelope’s families were about to be faced with a horrific truth. So no. Holly didn’t deserve to feel better.
“Eat,” Alexa said, reaching for a pan. She pulled the lid back, and the smell of pasta sauce surrounded Holly.
She realized she should be starving, but she wasn’t. Her stomach was tense and she was certain her body would violently reject any food she attempted to put in there. “I just wanted to thank you all for your help with this case. I know it’s taken a lot of my time, but now that it’s closed, I can focus on the other issues we have on the table. And thanks for dinner, but…I’m really not hungry.”
“Holly,” Rene started.
With a quick shake of her head, she turned and nearly ran into Sam.
Sam gave her that same damned sorrowful look as she lowered a stack of papers in her hands. Holly’s guilt grew as she recognized the missing person posters with Julia’s face on them that Holly had had Sam plaster all over town.
“I think I got them all,” she said softly.
Holly left her team to eat their late dinner.
She dropped into the chair behind her desk. She didn’t want it to—did her best to fight the urge—but her gaze drifted to the framed photo of her with her parents. The image was old and faded now, but it was the only photo she had of the three of them together. She didn’t even know why she kept it there. Part of her hated looking at it.
Seeing her mother smiling at her hurt more than it helped. Some kind of self-punishment, she expected. Seeing her now made Holly’s heart shatter. She didn’t want to hear her screaming, see her being pinned down in that small slit of space between the sofa and the floor, and she didn’t want to smell the blood in the air. But all those memories came flooding back.
Closing her eyes, knowing she couldn’t stop the visions from hitting her, Holly relived the night her mother died. From the sound of them laughing at an episode of The Golden Girls to the sound of the door crashing open. The man’s voice telling her to shut up. He had a slight accent that Holly had realized when she was older was from Boston.
The first time she’d heard someone speak with that accent as a teenager, she’d had a panic attack. She’d made a note in her diary. Her diary, which she’d started after her dad put her in therapy, would later become her most cherished possession. Not because of her deep thoughts but because of her memories. Because of the details therapy was able to help her remember that she’d blocked out.
Assault on December 2, 1989
Approximately 8:10 pm
Caucasian male
Boston accent
Black tattoo of dagger on right forearm
Size 10 boot prints found outside
Police estimated 6 feet tall and 200 pounds
Raped
Stabbed 14 times; third was fatal
Other entries had greater detail. What she heard. What she smelled. How he enunciated words.
The police had never found her mother’s murderer. Logic told Holly she never would either. But she’d never stop looking for the son of a bitch.
Leaning her head back, she closed her eyes and wondered if Alexa had been right. When this case initially came in, she insisted Holly not work it. She said it was going to hit too close to home, cause too much pain. And it had. And despite the watchful eyes of her teammate, she’d let it consume her. She’d thought more of her mother in the last two weeks than she had in the last two years. Yes, she wanted to catch the man who’d killed her, but Holly had stopped obsessing about the case years ago. It was always on her mind, somewhere in the back of her thoughts, but looking for Julia had somehow reminded her of what she’d lost. Maybe it was the look in Eric Fredrickson’s eyes when he spoke of his wife. She’d seen that look in her father’s eyes for too many years.
Haunted.
Hollow.
Accusing.
She didn’t want to remember her father that way, but he’d never been the same after her mother died. Neither of them had.
Holly was lost in memories of her father when the sound of the entrance door slamming jolted her.
“Where the hell are you?” a voice boomed.
Holly sat straight up in her seat as her breath caught. She had no doubt the owner of that voice was searching for her.
13
Jack tried to shake the memory of his mother’s quiet sobbing as he climbed from his car. As he’d suspected, Holly was at the HEARTS office. But from the look of the parking lot, so were all the other members of her team.
He opened the door, expecting to find them seated around the conference-room table eating a late meal and comforting Holly, as Eva had promised him they’d do. Instead, the women were all standing in defensive poses, two of them blocking the hallway to Holly’s office as a man stood before them.
Jack’s initial instinct was to rush in and save them all, but he suppressed the urge, knowing that he’d probably get his ass kicked as well. Holly tried to push her way through the women in front of her, but Rene and Alexa didn’t move.
“She’s dead!” the man screamed, and Jack finally realized it was Eric Fredrickson. “You promised to find her.”
Holly finally squeezed between her protectors, and the rest of the women moved closer, ready to defend her if necessary. Eva, in all her hipster glory, raised her hands in some pre–kung fu move while Rene did her signature glare. Alexa rested her hand on the Glock on her hip—reminding Jack he no longer had a gun. Tika, looking just as intimidating as the rest, leaned down, as if she would tackle the man should the need arise, while Sam stood back, phone in hand, ready to call for help.
“Take it easy, ladies,” Holly said. “Mr. Fredrickson has every right to be angry at me.”<
br />
“Damn straight. You were supposed to find her. You were supposed to bring her home.”
“We don’t know if that was her,” Holly said. Much like her team, she could see he didn’t believe her.
“They showed me her ring.” His voice trembled as he narrowed his eyes, “Julia is dead.”
“Not necessarily,” Holly soothed. “We’ll know more after the—”
“They won’t even let me see her body,” Eric said with a tone that sounded broken.
“We did everything we could,” Alexa offered.
Holly glanced over her shoulder and gave her a subtle shake of the head. Clearly, poking the bear wasn’t going to solve anything.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Fredrickson,” Holly said in a soothing voice. “I know I failed her.”
“Failed her? Do you know what that animal did to her? Do you know how she died?”
Instead of pushing the theory that the body might not be Julia, Holly nodded. “I do.”
He stepped closer to her, and the tension in the room rose. “I hired you to save her.”
“I know.”
“Why didn’t you?”
She didn’t answer. What the hell was she supposed to say? Jack couldn’t think of a thing that could make this better for the man. He needed someone to blame, and Holly was standing there letting him dump that on her. It wasn’t fair, or right, and Jack knew it would just compound the guilt she already felt.
Screw that.
“Mr. Fredrickson,” he said without really knowing what he’d say beyond that.
The man turned, and the small amount of anger that Holly had managed to soothe seemed to reignite. “You…” He turned back to Holly, but he pointed at Jack. “That. That is the reason you didn’t find my wife. You think I didn’t see you? The way you two were ogling each other. The way you couldn’t take your eyes off him. You were too busy fawning over your boyfriend to find my wife.”
“No,” Holly said quietly.
“It’s your fault,” he said in a voice that chilled Jack to the bone. “You did this. You fucking bitch.”
“Okay,” Rene said. “That’s enough.”
“We all worked this case,” Alexa offered in a more sympathetic tone. Holly had said she was the nurturer. The comforter. She was proving it now. “We all tried to find your wife. We all failed her and you, but it wasn’t for lack of trying.”
“Well, I guess you should have tried harder.” Turning, he stared at Jack, who was between him and the door.
Jack stood firm as Fredrickson moved across the lobby to him, their eyes locked, backs straight, and fists clenched. Jack definitely didn’t want to fight a man who had just learned his wife had died, but like the women in the room, he wasn’t going to take any shit, either. He’d put Fredrickson down if necessary, if for no other reason than to keep him from spewing more hate toward Holly.
Stopping in front of him, just inches away, Fredrickson clenched his jaw and angrily stared Jack down. He had a few inches on Jack but their builds were similar. He might not go down without a fight, but he’d fucking go down. No doubt in Jack’s mind.
Thankfully, Fredrickson didn’t push things that far. He stepped around him, intentionally hitting their shoulders together, before storming out of HEARTS. The door closed behind him, and the tension in the room eased like a switch had been flipped.
Jack walked to the door and flipped the lock, just to be sure, as Holly reassured her teammates she was okay. They left the lobby, and she tilted her head as she looked at Jack.
“Defending my honor again?”
“Someone has to.”
She smiled slightly, but he could see it wasn’t heartfelt. “How’s your mom?”
“Devastated. How are you?”
“Devastated,” she whispered.
Pulling her into his arms, he hugged her tight and kissed her head. He didn’t care if she wanted him to or not; he was going to give her the comfort she didn’t know she needed.
Or maybe he was going to take the comfort he didn’t know he needed.
The silence in the conference room was thick and heavy as Holly picked at her food. She really wasn’t hungry, but between her team and Jack, she’d had no choice but to accept a plate. Though she knew her body was in need of the energy source, her stomach was too tight to eat anything. Looking around the table, she realized she wasn’t alone in that. No one was engaging in their usual habit of gorging food while discussing the day’s events.
As upset as Holly was over the discovery of Julia’s and Penelope’s bodies, she couldn’t stop analyzing the other thing nagging at her. She’d never felt more protected than when her team and Jack had all stood at the ready, prepared to defend her if needed. Fredrickson had every right to be angry, and they had all respected that, but they’d stood their ground. For her. Protecting her.
She knew her father would have done the same; aloof as he’d become, he would have protected her if she’d ever needed it. Her battalion would have protected her.
But somehow, this felt different. This felt personal. Real. This felt like family. Like she was finally accepting what they’d all been telling her for so long. That she wasn’t as alone as she seemed. That she did have a place here that went beyond order and management and keeping the company moving.
This was her place. This was her home. Her family. They put themselves between her and perceived danger. And they didn’t even know what made her tick. What she kept buried deep inside and hidden away like a dirty secret. How many times had Alexa told her to just open up? To just let the other women know so they could support her.
She glanced at Jack, who seemed to sense her eyes on him and gave her a slight smile. Telling him the truth had been liberating in a way. Letting him see that side of her had eased the weight she’d been carrying for far too long. Taking a breath, she looked around the table at the women who had become her family.
“My mother was murdered,” she said, cutting the silence. “When I was eight. She hid me behind the sofa, but I lay down and pressed my cheek against the floor. I saw it happen. He…he raped her and stabbed her to death. I didn’t help her, and that haunts me. Every day.” She swallowed and blinked her tears back. “My father found her. That’s why he drinks. To forget. But I can’t forget. I can’t forget anything about that night. And I can’t stop blaming myself. Even if I was just a kid,” she said before they could remind her of that fact. She sighed as she glanced around. Everyone was looking at her, but none gushed with the sympathy she’d feared. Their eyes were sad but understanding. They weren’t pitying her. Just accepting that this was part of her.
Alexa squeezed her hand. “I still look for my sister. Sometimes I think I see someone who could be her, and I’ll follow her until reality crashes in and I accept that she’s dead. That she died a long time ago.”
“I still replay the day I lost a team member,” Rene said. “I could have saved her. If I’d been more aware of what was happening. If I’d been paying attention and realized what she’d been thinking. I would have stopped her before she left.”
Eva sighed loudly. “Joshua broke up with me because of this job. Because I can’t think of anything else when I’m working a case. Because he hates the danger. I chose this job over him. I don’t know if I did that because I love the job or because I’m so terrified of losing him that I just pushed him away first. How screwed up is that?”
“It’s not,” Tika assured her.
“It’s completely screwed,” Sam countered. “Completely screwed. All of you are, really.”
“All of us?” Tika asked, clearly offended. “What about you?”
Sam rolled her eyes. “Bitch, I’m perfect.”
Everyone looked at her, but Holly was the first to crack. Just a slight chuckle, but it was enough to break the shocked silence and cause the other women to laugh as well. She wasn’t in the mood to laugh, but damned if she could stop it from erupting.
“Screw you all,” Sam said, though she was grinnin
g.
Taking a breath, Holly grabbed Jack’s hand and squeezed it tight. “Thank you. All of you, for being here tonight. I know you all have better things to do than sit around and watch me process this.”
“Take tomorrow off,” Rene said.
“I doubt it, but maybe I will come in late.”
Jack stood, pulling her with him. “Don’t worry, ladies. I’ll take care of her.”
Holly eyed him, and he shrugged.
“I don’t have anything better to do with the next two weeks.”
Holly jolted awake with her hands reaching up, scratching at nothing. Exhaling harshly, she let her hands fall as she realized she’d been dreaming. She didn’t really remember what, but she didn’t have to consider it long to come up with a logical conclusion.
She didn’t think she’d ever get the image of those women out of her head.
Taking another deep breath, she looked to the other side of her bed. Jack was sleeping soundly, and an inexplicable sense of peace washed over her. The feeling didn’t last. As soon as she started to roll into him, seeking the comfort of his heat, guilt kicked in.
Eric Fredrickson would never hold his wife again. She knew that kind of emptiness could never be healed.
Instead of rolling into Jack, she sat up, putting her feet on the floor. She grabbed her robe as she passed the foot of the bed, wrapped the terrycloth around herself, and headed straight for the kitchen. Rather than pour a glass of whiskey, she grabbed the bottle and carried it with her to the dining room table, where she took a big swig.
Jack had wanted to box up the files and photographs, but Holly had refused. She should have let him. She should have told him to take it out back and burn it all. But she hadn’t. And now she stood in the middle of the night, staring at the images of women who would haunt her forever.
Julia was dead before Holly ever got the case. That was what Jack had said. And he was right. Holly knew he was right. Pearson hadn’t hung on to his victims. He hadn’t kept them alive, at least not for long.
But why?