Chapter Nine
Roman walked quietly into the bedroom. He locked eyes with Mac who had remained on the floor beside Mia, keeping watch over his mistress. Roman would have sworn there was an accusation in the dog’s gaze.
Mia slept peacefully on her side with a hand curled under her chin. Part of her face was covered by a curtain of silky auburn hair. His heart pinched as he looked down at her and he willed her to wake on her own. He hated to be the one to rip her out of the comfort of sleep.
Mac shifted and got to his feet. He was such a big dog that he now stood level with Mia. He tipped his head side to side, then flicked a look up at Roman as if to ask what he intended to do.
“I know. It’s crappy, but I’m going to have to wake her,” he murmured to the Doberman.
He crouched down beside the dog and gently tapped Mia’s shoulder. When she didn’t stir, he swept the hair back off her face and kissed her cheek.
“Hey, sleeping beauty. Are you in there?” he said softly.
She frowned and rolled onto her back. One of her hands rubbed over her eyes and she blinked them open and squinted up at him. Her vision was unfocused, still seeming to be partly in the land of dreams. Then she came awake fully and bolted up to a sitting position.
“What? Is something wrong? What’s happened?” she said, her voice raspy.
“Easy. Everything’s fine. Sorry to wake you. But Sheryl has some questions about today’s shipment. Apparently, the UPS guy is due any moment.”
Mia shook her head and from beside him, Mac whined. Her gaze latched onto the bedside clock.
“Crap. It’s almost ten. You shouldn’t have let me sleep so long.”
She crawled off the bed and pushed past him before marching to the ensuite bathroom and splashing water on her face.
“By my reckoning, you only came back to bed at around 7 a.m. I hardly think three hours constitutes sleeping so long,” he said.
With jerky movements, she squirted toothpaste on the bristles of her toothbrush. “You know what I mean.”
“Yeah.” He sighed. “What happened last night? You seemed whipped when we went to bed.”
“Too much up here.” Her voice was garbled, and she tapped her forehead with the hand that wasn’t brushing. “I couldn’t settle.”
“You’re still wrung out with all the emotions you took on from Tracey, aren’t you?”
She didn’t answer at first. Instead, she spat out toothpaste then swished her mouth with Listerine. Grabbing a scrunchy, she twisted her hair into a bun before pinning a few stray pieces into place.
“I’m okay.” She glanced down at herself. “And apparently dressed, so bonus points for me.”
Mac pushed in against her thigh, and Mia’s hand automatically went to his head. Her eyes scanned the room, taking in the empty dog beds.
“Everyone’s fine. They’re out in the run, and I played head chef and gave them breakfast. Mac, of course, had to be with you. He’s such a mama’s boy.”
Her lips briefly curved into a smile. “Yeah, he totally is, and I love that about him. FYI—they already ate. I fed them early, right before I came back to bed.”
Roman shook his head. “And like a sucker I fell for their sad eyes routine. They sure know how to work me. Seriously, are you okay?”
“Of course. I’m fine. Just tired. And you should be at your office in town. You don’t need to take care of me, you know.”
“I just wanted to be sure. I heard you get up at midnight and figured things were rough on your end. Besides, how would the dogs have gotten a second breakfast if I’d been in town?”
“Truer words.” Her smile flashed on, but he could still see her eyes were sad.
“Come here. I need a hug.” He opened his arms.
The hesitation was brief, but he felt it like a knife to the heart. Then she stepped into him, and he wrapped his arms around her shoulders and held her close before lowering his face to plant a kiss on the side of her neck.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have involved you in this case. It’s too hard on you,” he murmured.
She waited a beat before pushing out of his embrace. “I made the decision to go with you. Whatever the fallout, it’s on me. Come on, Mac. I’d better find out what’s going on with Sheryl.”
She strode away, the big dog loping by her side. Neither of them looked back.
“Shit,” he muttered under his breath.
***
A few hours later, with the jewelry orders dispatched to customers and a handful of new pieces finished on her worktable, Mia left the dogs with Sheryl and hopped in her Escape.
Her eyes were gritty and her mind somehow simultaneously sluggish on real-life details while running an adrenalized feedback loop of yesterday’s interviews with the Drapers and Tracey Millar.
When she’d hugged Tracey, reached out with her senses and taken in her grief and anger, she’d also gained access to Maryanne Wentworth. Pieces of Tracey’s memories had immediately come across. Small moments she’d shared with her best friend over the years.
A flash of the teenage version of Maryanne leaping out onto the driveway of a ranch-style brick home on a rainy overcast day and throwing her arms in the air. “I got it. I have my driver’s license. I’m totally legit. We can go anywhere we want now.”
Maryanne, older now. Serious. Her dark hair pulled through the back of a Nike baseball cap. She jogged along a residential street and worried about her college exams while the sun rose behind her and birds chirped away madly in the background. Tracey reassured her. “You know you’re always the smartest person in every room. You nailed it. Stop stressing already.” And Maryanne’s grateful smile. Her quick reach out to squeeze Tracey’s arm.
Then hopping backward in the timeline. The girls were maybe in their early teens. Maryanne had braces. They were huddled by a row of lockers at school, and she leaned into Tracey. “Was he a good kisser? Tell me everything. I need to be prepared for when it happens to me.” Her face so young and eager. Her eyes a clear and hopeful hazel.
And with each memory, Mia could feel Tracey’s emotions both in the moment and in the reliving. It gave her a whiplash effect. Their voices were clear in her mind. Every hug between friends felt real. Tactile. As if she’d experienced it herself. The sense of grief was all encompassing.
Mia knew from experience this wasn’t something that could be shaken off or walked away from. She’d have to live with it for several days until it gradually faded in intensity. And even when she was released from the conscious, day-to-day reliving of Tracey’s memories and emotions, they’d wait for her in dreams, dancing behind her closed eyelids for some time to come.
As she drove slowly along the gravel drive of her property and out to the road, Mia tentatively reached out with her senses and nodded to herself. The connection she’d forged yesterday with Tracey was a strong one. She was right there. In Walkerton. Present time.
She sat at a desk in a bustling office staring at a screen of … what was that exactly? Maybe interest rates or returns on investments. Clearly something to do with finance. And she was tired. She’d worked at the restaurant until eleven o’clock the previous night. But she was also calm and untroubled.
Mia blew out a breath, gathered herself, and sent across a little boost of energy. Immediately, she felt the corresponding dip in her mood and power—as if her own battery was draining more quickly than it should—but it felt worth it. Especially since she knew Tracey had been dragged down by this weighted grief for over ten months now.
“That’s the last time, though. I can’t give anymore,” she said aloud.
At the end of the driveway, she turned right onto the road and slowly came up to speed while continuing to think about Tracey.
It’s not like we caused the grief, is it? We only dug around at what was already there. And if someone murdered her best friend, we’ll figure it out and make them pay. That would help Tracey more than anything, Mia reasoned.
Despite telling Sheryl she’d had a meeting, Mia drove aimlessly. The truth was, she’d needed to get away from the house. Roman had been hovering the entire day.
Even when she assured him she was fine, he’d refused to work in town and kept popping down from his home office to check on her. She knew he was worried and maybe also had a little guilt mixed in there, but it was driving her crazy.
Mia prided herself on being independent. Self-reliant. She didn’t need a big strong man to make everything okay. She’d made the decision to help with the case, hadn’t she? And no one had forced her to use her abilities to connect with Tracey and take on the woman’s pain.
So now she’d deal with the fallout like a grown-assed woman.
Except … she tipped her head side to side. Okay. Truth time. She was a little pissed at him. More than a little. She’d told him only a day or so ago she didn’t want to live in this dark part of life. Yet he pressed her to sit in on the consult anyway. He would’ve known the minute she did, there’d be no backing away.
She slammed her palm against the steering wheel.
I don’t want to live like this. I can’t live like this or I’ll end up where I started.
Suddenly she knew where to go. She didn’t question it or allow herself to think beyond the next decision, which was putting on her indicator and turning right onto Main Street. She crossed several side streets before taking a left and pulling into a small parking lot.
There was an open spot conveniently close to the building and she parked and got out, stretching her arms over her head and letting out a groan. God, she really needed some sleep.
But first, she studied the building with the graceful Dance on Air sign above the double glass doors. On the large space to the left of the doors, silhouettes of dancers in various poses had been stenciled onto the brick.
It was eye-catching and great advertising. Brooke Adams, owner of the studio and Mia’s friend, was one smart cookie when it came to her business.
And speaking of business, the lot was full of clients. Maybe a spontaneous drop-in hadn’t been the best idea in the world.
She fished her phone out of her back pocket, and leaning a hip against the door of the Escape, shot off a text.
I’m in the neighborhood. Any chance you have time for a coffee?
Yes, please. Get me out of here. Give me 5.
Mia smiled, her first genuine one of the day, and waited for Brooke.