Chapter 29
TOM
“Do you want to talk about it?” Grimm asks from the passenger seat without looking up from his phone.
“Talk about what?”
“Whatever has you trying to rip the steering wheel off the column before we get to the house. I mean, my life insurance is up to date, but this isn’t really how I imagined going out.”
Fuck.
“Sorry,” I grumble, releasing one hand from the wheel at a time to flex my fingers before relaxing back into the leather.
“No need to apologize,” he says as I pull up to the curb and throw the SUV into park. “I don’t care either way. You just look like you’re going to murder someone, and we actually need this woman to talk to us.”
If it were anyone else dressing me down I would have barked at them, but Grimm is for all intents and purposes my second-in-command, and if he thinks I’m fucking up, then I’m definitely fucking up.
“I—” A part of me wants to tell him what happened with Kat.
The couch.
Toeing the line.
Arguing with her before we left even though that hadn’t been my intention at all.
Needing to apologize but not having the chance.
“Yeah, I know,” he says cutting me off before I can actually admit to anything, his eyes widening slightly as he stares at me. “Just glad you know it too.”
He nods at me and then pushes out of the car like that’s the end of it, and maybe it is. Grimm and I aren’t particularly known for sharing almost anything related to our personal lives.
That’s what we have Jace and Ozzy for.
Royce never had anything to share before Kinsley, and now he’ll bore you to death with the team’s stats for the last five years if you stand still long enough. But they’re happy and I’m happy for them.
The thought is enough to snap me out of my mood as Grimm and I make our way up the front walk of the white house with the dark blue shutters and tidy yard. Two flowerpots sit beside a red door that looks like it’s been freshly painted.
“I’m not interested in whatever you’re selling,” a woman in her fifties says, swinging the door open before we’ve even had a chance to knock.
“We’re not selling anything,” Grimm says, his tone gentler than I’m used to hearing from him. “Are you Dahlia Anderson?”
“Who wants to know?”
“We’re security for Kat Harrington. Are you familiar with that name?”
She snorts, leaning her shoulder against the doorjamb and chuffing out a humorless laugh. “Sure, I’m familiar with her.”
Grimm’s eyes slide to mine. Despite appearing annoyed, Dahlia isn’t portraying any signs of deceit or discomfort.
“Could you describe your relationship with Kat?” I ask, watching her closely as she tilts her face toward the sky and then shakes her head before looking back at me.
“We don’t have one, not anymore.”
“Why is that?” Grimm asks gently.
“Is she in trouble?”
“Why do you ask?” I counter as she raises one eyebrow.
“Because I don’t think you’d be knocking on my door if she wasn’t.”
“It’s possible,” I offer, and a tiredness crosses over her face. She looks genuinely sad and almost defeated.
But not guilty.
“I have nothing to hide.”
“There’s been some activity on your social media that might suggest you don’t care for her, Dahlia, especially after Kat was announced as winning the Chicago Children’s Outreach Award.” The statement is delivered smoothly, Grimm’s expression open and inviting as we wait for her to respond.
“She won? Really?” A wide smile crosses her lips. “Oh, that’s so great.” Looking between us, she chuckles. “Not the reaction you were expecting, I see.”
“Not exactly,” I concede. “If you’re not upset with her, then why are you harassing her on social media?”
“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”
“Try us,” Grimm says wryly and she shrugs, righting herself before holding her palm out.
“I’ve been writing a long time. I met Kat when she first started and her success was nearly instant. I was happy for her—proud even—and then my career stalled. Kat’s exploded. My husband and I hit a rough patch and we’d just moved his mother in with us.”
“That sounds like a lot to deal with,” Grimm offers softly.
“It was,” she confirms, pinching the bridge of her nose between her fingers.
“It was when Kat released the baseball story—the little boy and his dog go to the stadium. Her brother was already a star player for the Illinois Blues and they made it into this massive PR event.” She sighs.
“I saw the coverage and I made some nasty remarks. I was so defeated and here was this gorgeous and talented woman absolutely killing it while I seemed to be failing in all parts of my life. I didn’t hate her but I hated that was no longer me. ”
“What happened?” I ask.
“I broke down. I deleted my post but people had already shared it. I tried to reach out to Kat but she blocked me, and I don’t blame her. I deleted my social media and found myself a therapist.”
“All right…” Grimm starts, his eyes tracking to mine again as we’re suddenly faced with more questions than we came with.
“I had a ton of hateful comments and messages waiting for me when I signed back in a month later. My plan was to put up my apology to Kat on my page and then delete everything again. I needed a break and was determined to fix things at home with my family, but when I logged in online, I realized there were at least two accounts pretending to be me. I reported them both for impersonating me but in each case, I was told that they weren’t doing anything wrong and would not be required to take their page down. ”
“So, you’re saying someone is still impersonating you, years later?” Grimm doesn’t hide the disbelief from his voice.
“Yup.” She pops the p as she holds his gaze. “I tried for maybe a week to get things taken down but when I kept getting ignored, I said fuck it and deleted everything again.”
“And now?” I ask, pretty sure I already know what’s coming.
“I never went back to writing that series or even using that name. I have a new pen name now for a different genre and I’m doing really well.”
“Can I ask what genre?”
“Cozy paranormal.”
“Cozy…” Grimm trails off and she smiles.
“Witches in a modern setting in layman’s terms. No sex. Just a whole lot of magical mystery and fun.”
“That’s quite the shift,” I tell her.
“It was, but I’ve been writing these books for about five years now and I love it. My fanbase is loyal and growing, and I’ve set boundaries for myself with my level of involvement online.”
“That’s great.”
“It is. Therapy helped a lot, and it helped me realize my passion wasn’t in children’s books anymore and that following a new dream is just as beautiful as the original one.”
“Are your children’s books still available?” I ask, not remembering if Royce had confirmed that or not.
“They are. I send out a newsletter every couple of months if there’s a sale happening but that’s it.” She lifts her shoulders and lets them drop. “If people find them, they find them. I stopped any advertising for them two years ago after I did an anniversary edition.”
Grimm looks to me and I nod. There are things Royce can check out to confirm her story, but I know in my gut she’s telling the truth. She made a mistake and it got ugly, but she tried her best to rectify it and when she couldn’t, she moved on.
“Is there anyone you can think of that might want to hurt Kat? Anything you’ve heard?”
“I mostly try to stay out of it. I will say I thought it was odd when the sister of her friend reached out to do the illustrations on my covers for me not long ago.”
“Hazel Drake’s sister?”
“Yeah, that’s the one. I graciously declined.”
“Are you sure it was her?” Grimm asks, frowning.
“The company name was different, but I recognized the work immediately. Her illustrations are great but her designs are a little too young for my demographic.”
“How long ago was that?” I ask.
“A few months, maybe?” She rolls her eyes. “Not long after that, I had some trouble with the online trolls,”—she gives us a pointed look—“but I am better than the negativity and didn’t engage.” Almost as an afterthought, she adds, “Strange now that I think about it.”
“We appreciate your time,” Grimm says, sincerity in his tone as he holds out his hand for her to shake and I do the same.
“Thank you for coming by.” Dahlia smiles. “I think this is what they talk about when they mention closure. I didn’t realize I needed this. Can you tell Kat I’m sorry? I hate that I wasn’t able to really do that.”
“We will,” I tell her as my phone vibrates in my pocket. Jace. “Hey, we’re leaving now—”
“Kat’s gone! I was at the kitchen table and I didn’t hear her leave but her car is gone and—”
“What?!” I roar into the device, my legs carrying me back toward the SUV as Grimm offers an apology to Dahlia.
But he’s right on my heels, both of us slamming into the car before I’m peeling away from the curb.
He lost her.
She’s gone because he fucking lost her.
And I know as sure as I know my name that if anything happens to her, I might never be the same.
“Fucking find her!” I yell before hanging up with Jace. I can hear Grimm barking into the phone as he motions for me to take a right.
We’re going to find her.
She’s going to be all right.
Bringing up her number on the screen on the dash, I hit the call button and listen to it ring once.
Twice.
Three times.
And then she picks up and I can almost breathe again. “Kat—” My heart slows in my chest for only a second before I hear her.
“Tom!” She screams my name, but I can barely hear it over the sound of crunching metal echoing through the speakers.
She’s in trouble and we may already be too late.