Chapter 38
Kinsley
Chapter Thirty-Eight
“Let me show you something,” Thomas said while I pulled one of his clean T-shirts over my head.
We were in his room now after I cried for about half an hour in the bathtub, he washed my hair and escorted me back here without letting me glance in the direction of the guest room. I lifted an eyebrow tiredly, and he gave me a small smile, bringing a blanket out of his closet.
“Come,” he said again, grabbing my hand and directing me toward one of the windows.
“I’m not killing myself with you,” I said, my voice raspy, and Thomas made a face at me while opening the window.
I closed my eyes as the warm night wind caressed my cheek. Thomas climbed out of the window and looked back to make sure I was following before he walked farther away. I looked out at the roof, then followed him to a flatter area. He laid the blanket out, sitting down on it and pulling me down to sit between his thighs. I gasped for air in surprise, but as soon as my back hit his chest, I relaxed into him.
“Where is Connor and Kevin?” I asked, closing my eyes, trying to resolve the knot in my chest, gazing up toward the stars.
Living in the city always made me forget how much I loved stargazing. The bright stars scattered in the dark sky always seemed to calm me. They made it possible to leave all your earthly problems behind and get lost in something more, something so much bigger than you and your problems.
“Downstairs,” Thomas replied, his hot breath brushing against my skin, pulling me out of my thoughts.
“And Bo—” I wanted to ask now that I felt somewhat better, but Thomas cut in.
“Connor took care of it.” I dipped my chin, chewing on my bottom lip. “He changed the sheets in the guest room too.”
I tensed at the thought of spending my night there.
“But I guessed you would be sleeping with me?” He wrapped his hard arms around me from behind and I closed my eyes, easing into him.
“What did Connor see in the room?” I asked, suddenly remembering his comment. “Other than, you know—” I added, lifting my eyes back up to the starry sky.
“Are you sure you want to talk about this?” he asked, and I nodded, earning a sigh. “A question for a question, then.” I knotted my brows, glancing back at him.
“You do know you could just ask me whatever?” I asked, and he smirked, leaning backward and looking up to the sky.
“I’m aware,” he replied, and I made a face. “But this is so much more fun.” He reached out and brushed his thumb over my cheek.
“Okay,” I agreed. “Just tell me.”
His hand fell away from my face as he tensed, opening his mouth.
“There was a message left on the mirror.” He sat up, his eyes never leaving mine. “But we will call the police, and it will all be all right,” he added, and I furrowed my brows.
“What message?” My mind filled with different scenarios. How bad must it have been for Thomas to have agreed to call the police? He studied me before pulling out his phone and turning the screen toward me.
It took me a moment to realize I was seeing a picture of the mirror in the guest room. I shivered as I read the bloody letters pouring down on it. You are next, it read, and I grimaced, turning the phone away.
“How original,” I muttered, trying to look calm, but my stomach turned. “Do you think whoever left it there knew that I had ornithophobia?” I asked, my thoughts going back to Bob Marley.
“Most likely.” He sighed, pulling me back into his arms, and I rested the side of my face against his chest. “My question.” He changed the subject, and I looked up at him, raising a brow. “What did you find next to the family picture the other day?” he asked, and I furrowed my brows, having no idea what he meant. “I think it had a lake on it…” he tried. “You seemed more upset about that than our crossed-out faces.”
“It was just a postcard.” I shrugged. “It got some blood on it too,” I explained.
“Just a postcard?” He lifted a brow.
“It was nothing. I—” I started, but then bit my tongue with a sigh. “It’s just a stupid thing my dad and I did,” I explained, and he waited. “We had this tradition when I was little,” I picked at the socks I was wearing until Thomas curled his fingers around my hand. I blew out a breath. “When we went somewhere without the other, we always brought back the prettiest postcard we could find as a gift. We had to write down the five nicest memories we had made there…but it’s not a thing anymore. I don’t even know why I bought it.” It would have just ended up with the other unsent cards I bought over the years. Even if it didn’t get blood on it, it would have stayed unwritten and unsent.
“What would you say about writing one to me?” Thomas asked, playing with a strand of my hair, and my eyes widened before a laugh fell from my lips.
“Don’t joke with this.” I smiled, and Thomas made a face, twirling the brown lock around his finger.
For a moment, we just sat there on the roof, staring at each other, until he moved, pointing at the night sky.
“There’s the Scorpius,” he said, and I turned to look, narrowing my eyes to see the constellation. “You see,” he breathed into my ear. “That bright red one is the Antares—the Scorpion’s heart.” He caressed my skin.
My heartbeat quickened from Thomas’s words as I studied the sky. When I finally noticed the constellation high above the dark forest, I tried to count all the eighteen stars it contained, and the knot seemed to ease in my chest again. My mind suddenly traveled to all that had happened in the last few days. It seemed surreal, especially as we had only been here for five days. The thought of me not being more freaked out over the fact that someone was in the room I slept in scared me the most. I should have been frightened, but I was angry and disturbed by the act instead. I played over everything in my head until the moment Connor and I were going through those family pictures, and then my eyes popped open.
Realization ran through my body like an electric shock.
“I know where I saw that picture.” I straightened.
We didn’t waste time with stupid questions, instead Thomas followed me back into the house and toward Connor’s bedroom. I stopped at the door and glanced up at him.
“Are you sure they are downstairs?” I asked, and when he nodded, I pushed the door open.
Darkness greeted me, and the blood froze in my veins as my stomach turned at the familiar sight. Thomas turned on the light, and I let out a breath. The box was exactly where I saw it last, resting on Connor’s nightstand in front of his dino-patterned walls.
“I didn’t think much about it when I came across it,” I explained while hurrying toward the box and taking the lid off. “It was so small. Smaller than what Braxton printed for us, so I thought it was you with Josh and Lizzie,” I added as I searched between the pictures. “I should have paid more attention.” I sighed, finding the picture and raising it out between my fingers.
Thomas leaned closer and hummed. “You couldn’t have known,” he replied, studying it, and I handed him the photo. He turned it around and slightly furrowed his brows.
I leaned closer to see what he was looking at. There was only one name written on the back of the picture: Philip Bowman.
“I just can’t put it together.” Thomas sighed, placing the paper down on the nightstand.
I looked up at him, but his gaze was fixated on the wall. “How does this couple come into the picture?” he asked, mostly to himself, so I stayed quiet. “I have never heard of someone called Bowman in Coldwater, and this,” he motioned at the piece of paper, “was taken in Newton.” He let out a sigh, and I realized maybe this was the first time he let me see this part of him. The unsure one who has questions to ask and not just answers to give. “Maybe this doesn’t even have anything to do with her disappearance.” He turned his head to look at me.
“Maybe,” I answered, reaching out and brushing my fingers against his. “But if you look at the things that happened to us today, that speaks differently. I think we are close to something,” I added, studying the photo again.
Thomas stayed silent for a moment, but he nodded. “I hope you are right.” He sighed. “Do you think you could sleep? It’s past two a.m.”
We made our way out of the room. I looked down at the picture in my hands and shook my head. I felt tired, but I knew my brain couldn’t stop now. So many things had happened tonight.
“I thought so,” he replied. “Let me read you something.” I raised my brows at him in surprise.
“One of my smutty books?” I teased, and he chuckled, opening his bedroom door.
“If you would prefer those, then yes, but I was thinking of a more suitable bedtime story,” he added, and I made a face.
“Why?” I asked while he walked to his shelves.
“What, why?” he replied, pulling down an old book after a moment of searching.
“Why do you want to read to me? There is so much to do.”
Thomas turned around with the book in his hand. “Because I know you, Kinsley. I know that you would stay up all night working, but I also know that you are tired. You went through something traumatic, and you are trying to distract yourself. Let me help you. Let me be your comfort.” He placed the book into my hands, and my breath caught in my throat.
“Is this the first edition?” I gulped after a moment, and Thomas smirked.
“Might be. Open it and find out.”
My hands trembled as I opened the old book as gently as I could, and I sucked in a breath as my eyes caught the author’s signature in it.
“Oh god,” I muttered while Thomas got into the bed and patted it next to himself.
“So, did you make up your mind?” he asked, and I nodded, handing him the book and lying down next to him. “Agatha Christie, it is,” he murmured, brushing over my hair, and I let out a satisfied sigh as he started reading.