Chapter Six
AJ
The bullpen’s a storm of noise—phones ringing, boots pounding the linoleum, whispered conversations, squawks from the radios, the occasional shout.
My feet ache, blisters broken open twice over from walking miles of the trail more than a dozen times in the past twenty-four hours. I brace a hand on my desk, too tired to even sit down—because I’ll never get back up again, and Grace needs me out there.
Marvin’s posted up near the back wall, arms folded, watching the chaos. When his gaze lands on me, he straightens and beelines for my desk.
Fuck.
“Stone,” he says, his tone almost gentle. “I’m real sorry about Grace. If there’s anythin’ I can do…” Shaking his head, he adds, “We’ll find her.”
I’ve had it with the empty reassurances everyone’s been feeding me since she vanished. We don’t have a single goddamn lead. If Marvin really wanted to help, he’d be out there. Looking for her. Still, I give him a sharp nod. If I open my mouth, I’ll unload every ounce of rage boiling in my chest.
If it weren’t for his CI’s bullshit intel, we would have been up at the cabin. And no one would have dared touch her.
“Stone!” Harris shouts, stalking toward me. “I told you to go home!”
“Go home?” I shove past Jasper and beeline for the chief. “My wife is fucking missing! If you think I’m goin’ home, you’re a goddamned idiot.”
“You fixin’ to fight me?” Harris asks, then shakes his head and turns his focus to Jasper. “Blade, get your brother out of here before he talks himself right into a demotion. Or a suspension. Or both. Austin PD is taking over the case.”
“Like hell they are,” I grit out. “Those jackoffs wouldn’t know a clue if it jumped out of the ground and bit them in the ass.”
“You’re on thin fuckin’ ice, Stone,” Harris warns. “This wasn’t my idea. Orders came all the way from the top.”
This can’t be happening. APD will shut us out before we know what hit us. Grace will be one woman in a sea of missing persons to them. But here, she’s family. To me…she’s everything.
“Chief—”
Jasper grabs my arm. “Harris ain’t got a choice. And neither do you, dumbass. I’m taking you home. We’ve been up for almost forty-eight hours. We ain’t worth spit to Grace without some sleep.” He’s calm as fuck, which sets me off even more.
“She’s out there somewhere,” I spit through clenched teeth. “She could be hurt. Or…worse.”
“Aaron.” Jasper tightens his grip until I meet his gaze. Fuck. It’s like looking in a goddamn mirror. His hair’s a little lighter, and he favors a full beard while I shave every couple of days. But we’re more alike than not in every other way. Down to my haunted look reflected in his eyes.
He’s followed every lead right along with me. Called in favors at APD, even the FBI. I know he’s right. But how can I sleep when I don’t know if Grace is even still alive?
“I’m goin’ back to the trail. We missed something.”
I pull my phone off the charger and check it for the thousandth time. No messages from Grace. And worse…no ransom call.
“The only place you’re goin’ is home,” Jas says. “Hand over your keys. I’ll drive you and bunk at your place tonight.”
“I don’t need a babysitter.”
“Oh no?” His brows shoot up. “You’re holdin’ that phone upside down.”
Fuck.
I’m worse off than I thought. Suddenly, I can’t string two words together without feeling like I’m clawing my way through quicksand.
My shoulders slump as I follow Jasper out to my SUV.
One of Grace’s sweaters is still in the passenger seat, and I clutch it so tightly, the fibers stretch almost to their breaking point.
She’s gonna tear me a new one if I ruin it.
I’m half tempted to rip it to shreds so she’ll come back and do just that.
Instead, I hold it to my nose and inhale deeply.
Jasmine and gardenia. She’s worn the same perfume for our entire relationship. It’s my favorite scent in the world. What if I never smell it on her again?
“AJ, we’re gonna find her.” The strain in Jasper’s voice isn’t reassuring. I’m usually the one who talks to victims and witnesses when we work a case together. My brother ain’t a people person.
“She’s been missing for thirty-one hours.
” The lump in my throat threatens to choke me.
“We don’t know if she’s even still in the country.
Whoever took her ain’t interested in ransom.
They would’ve called me already. Released their demands to the media.
Something.” My tears spill over. “What if she’s already dead? ”
“She’s not. You’d know. You’d feel it,” he says.
Would I? We’ve been together so long, we can finish each other’s sentences. But soulmates? Neither of us ever put much stock in the concept.
I close my eyes, picturing her and Belle as they lounged in bed Saturday morning. The soft smile curving her lips. The light in her eyes.
Did I tell her I loved her before I left?
Fuck.
I didn’t.
Please, God. If you’re up there, bring her back to me. Give me a chance to be a better husband. To tell her—to show her—that I love her. Every damn day.
I haven’t prayed in over a decade, but now it’s all I can do. That…and hope somewhere out there, she’s doing the same.
The rest of the drive passes in a blur. Light spills from the front windows of the house, and it takes me a full minute to remember that McGrath kept Belle overnight, handing her off to one of his State Trooper friends early this morning.
The woman brought the dog back here so she’d be somewhere familiar.
As soon as I step over the threshold, Belle bounds through the house, her nails scratching noisily across the tile. She skids to a stop and whines once she sees Grace isn’t with me.
“Dammit. I only got her away from the door ten minutes ago.” A petite, blond woman dressed in a pair of jeans and a loose red tank top comes in from the kitchen, a dish towel slung over her shoulder, and holds out her hand. “Captain Stone? Lieutenant Blade? I’m Parker Elmore.”
“Jasper. And that’s AJ,” Jas says as he shakes her hand. “You’re doin’ us a favor, Parker. Not reporting for duty. Did Belle give you any trouble?”
“She’s a good puppy.” Parker drops to one knee and scratches the dog behind the ears.
“But she sat by the front door all day. I tried a tennis ball, her rope toy, even treats. At least she finished all her dinner. If you two are hungry, there’s a tray of enchiladas on the stove that should still be warm. ”
“You…cooked?” I run a hand through my hair. Fuck. I need a shower. I can’t remember the last time I ate. Yesterday?
Parker shrugs. “Didn’t think you’d be up for it, and I rarely have the time. My mama was a chef in El Paso for twenty years. I’ve got all her secret recipes. You need me back here in the morning?”
I can’t think that far ahead. Fucking hell, I can’t think at all. Somewhere in the background, I hear Jasper telling her to show up at ten.
Bypassing the stove, I move to the wet bar and dig out the bottle of Pappy’s I was savin’ for when I made captain. I stare at it for a full minute before I shake my head and pour myself a glass of Maker’s Mark instead. Grace and I were supposed to open the Pappy’s together.
“Nope.” Jasper eases the glass from my grip. “You ain’t touching a drop until you eat something.”
“Fuck you.” I don’t have the energy to throw any malice behind my words. Plus, deep down, I know he’s right. The bourbon would go straight to my head. I want it to. I need it to. Otherwise I’ll be staring at the ceiling all night thinking about the horrible things Grace could be going through.
“Sit down. I’ll get the food. Eat two enchiladas and I’ll give this back to you.”
When he returns with the plate, I grunt my thanks. Parker’s a damn good cook, and the food clears my head a fraction.
Jasper and I sit in silence until I can’t keep my eyes open another second. He knows where the guest room is.
I make it as far as the bedroom before stopping cold. Our bed still smells like her, still holds the shape of her body. I can’t. Not tonight.
So I grab a pillow and blanket, dragging them into Grace’s studio. At least here I’m surrounded by her—her colors, her brushstrokes, the way she sees beauty where the rest of the world sees only broken things.
I stretch out on the couch and press my hand hard over my mouth. The sobs come anyway, raw and ugly.
Belle pads over and rests her head on my thigh. Her big blue eyes are wrecked with the same question burning me alive.
Where is she?
I curl an arm around the dog’s neck, bury my face in her fur, and press a kiss to her head.
“We’ll find her, girl.” My voice cracks, hoarse from calling Grace’s name for hours while walking the trail. “On my life, we’ll find her.”