Page 20 of Grave Possession (Grave #2)

Chapter Fifteen

Graves

“ D id you tell anyone I had a girlfriend?” My voice is a barely restrained feral growl as I glare at my uncle from across his desk.

“No… Did you?” I shake my head slowly, trying to wrack my sleep deprived brain for any information I may have let slip about Mallory. Through the window, I watch as my basement buddy gets into his cruiser, and pulls out of the parking lot.

“Before I told you who Mallory was, would you have remembered her?” I ask, anxiety amassing within me.

It feels like an electric current is shooting up and down my limbs.

My heart beats erratically and a cold sweat breaks out across my skin.

I’m hot and cold simultaneously, trying not to fucking panic or vomit.

“What do you mean, Nox? Who is she?” my uncle asks, clearly not remembering her coming into the station to report her parents missing.

“She’s been in here before to file two missing person reports.

” I pause, waiting for him to have any recollection about the day I’m referring to.

I took her statement myself while fighting to hide my massive erection from both her and my uncle when she left.

He sat in on the fucking interview, how can he not remember this? “Dennis Bryant and Barbra Knight…”

“Oh, yes. I remember now.” Finally. “That’s her?

She looks so different now.” Great observation skills, Captain.

She looks different now because of me, because I took care of her; not well enough, unfortunately.

The reminder that I failed her is a kick to the gut, and if I thought she was dead, I’d be searching for her endlessly on the other side.

“I don’t know where you’re going with this, son, but we have one half of the town’s gossip mill working the front desk.

The other half works at the Silverberry.

” Fuck, he’s right. Between Carla and Rita, the whole town could know about Mallory and I.

Actually, I guarantee they do with the very public displays of affection I’m prone to.

I must be overreacting, my fellow comrade couldn’t be a sexual sadist and serial killer…right? I’ve worked alongside him for years, as has my uncle. I never noticed anything alarming or off about him. I can’t raise an alarm over this, it’s too soon and I have no evidence.

“It’s nothing, I thought I had something but probably not. Any mention of her raises red flags, you know?” I rationalize, diffusing the tension in the room.

“You need to sleep, Lennox.” I nod, hanging my head. Sleep is just time I could spend looking for Mallory, but if I wrap the four-wheeler around a tree, I’ll be no help to anyone. “Did you get everything you wanted?” the captain asks .

“Yeah. Actually…the bola wrap is missing. What’s that about?” I query.

“I don’t know. It was there last week for inventory,” he replies.

“No one mentioned they were going to sign it out and somehow just forgot?”

He shakes his head. “No, no one would need it. The city officers all insist on using their own equipment. Like ours is inferior or something.” He huffs and rolls his eyes as ice shoots through my veins.

I need to get out of here and follow my gut before he pulls me into a conversation about what pompous dicks the city guys are.

“Okay, maybe I just missed it. I got interrupted while I was looking for it. If it turns up, let me know?”

“Sure,” he responds.

I shoulder my bag and rise from my seat. “Thanks for this, uncle, it means a lot.” He stares at me for a long moment, and I almost wonder if he’s waiting for me to leave so he can get back to playing solitaire on his computer.

Just as I’m awkwardly working my way out from between the chair and the desk, careful not to knock any of his nicknacks over with my bag, his words meet my ears and I snap my eyes back to his.

“You know, if I could kill the man who took your Aunt Deanna from me, I would. I won’t deny you something I can only wish to have the opportunity to do.

” I stare at him, mouth agape, rocked to my core by what he just said.

How do I reply to that? My gaze is assessing.

Is he fucking with me? What the fuck did I just hear?

I nod, then recede out of his office. Signing out on the sheet at the welcome desk, I say goodbye to Carla, then make my way across the parking lot to my truck.

I sit in the driver’s seat, mind reeling…

Did he just give me permission to kill someone?

What if that person is a fellow colleague and a friend?

I won’t hesitate to end anyone’s life for hurting Mallory, but will his point of view change when it’s a person he knows?

I can’t worry about that right now, this is only a hunch.

We’ll see if that wrap magically shows back up, then maybe my hypothesis will carry more weight.

I pull out of the stall and take off in the direction of his patrol route.

Certain I can either catch up to him or cross his path at some point tonight.

If I don’t, then I wonder where he could be spending his time if not doing his job.

I, of all people, know how easy it is to say you’re doing your job, when in fact you’re stalking a pretty lady with hair as dark as the starless night sky.

Dawn is fast approaching, and so is shift change.

I turn the key and my truck roars to life.

I wonder where my coworker could be, because he sure as shit didn’t drive this route last night.

Maybe he’s shacked up with his new lady and just slacking on patrol because they are so love sick for each other.

Or, maybe, he’s the sick fuck who’s been killing women left, right, and centre.

The sexual sadist with a penchant for asphyxiation who now has his filthy, homicidal hands on my Mallory.

The drive back to her house is short since I was sitting down the road from the mill.

I swing open the front door, immediately unnerved by what I see.

There are fresh, dewy bootprints across the floor that definitely don’t belong to me.

Who was here? Was it Mallory? Hope flares momentarily in my chest but dies just as quickly when I bend down to inspect them further.

They’re too big to be from Mal, and too small to be from me. Was he here? Is he still?

I unholster my firearm and creep down the hall.

Systematically sweeping every room, closet, and place large enough to conceal a perpetrator.

I double check every window; they are all still locked and the main level is clear.

I move quickly and silently across the house, making my way to the basement.

Flattening my back to the left side of the stairwell, I hit the light switch and inspect the barren, cold living room downstairs.

Clear. I shift quickly, aiming down the hallway, towards the laundry room.

I move slowly and cautiously through the damp basement.

Bathroom. Clear. Empty room. Clear. Storage room. Clear. Utility and laundry room. Clear.

I holster my gun, double checking that every possible point of entry is locked before I head back upstairs.

When I pass the top step and have both feet on the hardwood, I rip the CCPD ball cap from my head and whip it across the living room.

Raking my fingers through my hair, gripping and pulling on the strands.

I drop to my knees. “FUCK!” I roar, smashing my fist into the floor.

Once. Twice. Three times. The pain shoots up my arm, but I don’t stop.

Four. Five. Six. My knuckles split, and blood splatters as I pummel the floor.

I’m crumbling. I can’t believe he was here and I fucking missed him.

Did he come to kill me? Did he hope to slit my throat while I slept?

Realizing he divulged too much to me in the weapons room, and that I would piece it together?

Will he come back and try again? I fucking dare him to.

Except I can’t kill him, not until I have Mallory back.

I’m barely holding onto my composure as I stomp across the house and rip the front door open. It smashes loudly into the wall behind it then swings back and hits me in the ass on my way out. I glare at it, resisting the urge to throw my weight into it.

Turning, I make my way to the side of the house where the internet connection is.

I can see the wiring has been cut which is why the cameras and wi-fi internet aren’t working.

I make a mental note to call the provider when they open in a few hours.

I’m going to catch this asshole if he comes back again, then I will have the evidence I need.

I cross the yard to my truck, drop the tailgate, and climb up into the back.

Unlocking my tool box, I rummage through all the junk I have stored in here, searching for the game cameras I collected from Edward’s house after he was disposed of.

Finding them, I head back inside after retrieving the charging cords from the centre console of the vehicle.

They won’t be able to send pictures directly to my phone until the internet is fixed, but once they are charged, they can store pictures in their hard drive for me to review.

In the kitchen, I plug in the cameras, leaving them to charge on the counter.

Heading to the bathroom, I shower for the first time in…

I don’t even know how many days, then flop down into Mal’s bed.

Her smell is fading, being replaced by the aroma of my poor hygiene.

I can’t ha ve her come back to this mess I’ve made.

I keep forgetting to stop and get the supplies needed to fix the dent I put in the wall.

Fuck, I’m a mess without her.

Rising from the mattress, I strip her sheets, chucking them in the corner by the hamper.

Then remake the bed, spritzing a bit of her perfume onto the mattress.

Laying back down, I try to make a checklist of all the things I need to do: Fix the wall, replace her mug, do the laundry, call the internet guy, and find my little siren.

Her heavenly scent wraps around me, coaxing me into sleep.

I welcome the dreamland it’s leading me to, it’s the only place I can hold her until she returns to me.