Page 37 of Grave Possession (Grave #2)

Chapter Twenty-nine

Graves

I cut the engine as I roll into Mallory’s backyard.

On the long drive back from the cabin, I gathered my thoughts.

Concluding it made more sense to stop here first in case my uncle got to her safely, and brought her back home.

Unfortunately, that doesn’t appear to be the case.

The house is dark and all is quiet. Shit.

Making a quick call to a fellow officer, I tell him the coordinates of the cabin. “Get in, get Victoria, and get out. No investigating.” I direct.

“Yes, sir,” he replies.

It’s a rescue mission for him, I don’t need him puking all over my crime scene. I’ll handle the delegating later. He’s the most unthreatening person on the force, Victoria won’t be scared of him. She’ll chew him up and spit him out. Maybe it will toughen him up.

Unzipping the duffle bag, I debate what to bring with me for the hundredth time. No matter what I grab, I’ll always wish I had something else. Snatching up my tactical belt, I click it around my waist. It has my cuffs, nightstick, radio, and a handgun in the holster.

Before closing up the bag, I eye my Ghost mask staring back at me.

Who does she need right now? The ruthless protector or the law-abiding small town cop?

Who will she feel safest with? Deep down I know it’s Ghost. Being kept prisoner by a fellow comrade is going to shake her confidence in me and the department.

I grab the disguise, slipping it into my back pocket.

I check the clip in my pistol, then take off in a sprint towards the mill.

I’m leaving the rifle and duffle bag behind.

Opting for speed and stealth over carting around the bulky items. I hope I don’t regret it.

Out of breath, I dive into the bush on the far side of the old Henderson property.

Moving through the trees and coming up behind the camouflage tent I have hidden on the side of the mill, I step inside.

Sweat coats my skin as a glare from the far trees catches my attention.

Sunshine reflects off the headlights of my uncle’s cruiser, shining out through the foliage in the front of the mill.

He’s backed his car into the path we use for the Henderson Haunt, and it’s barely visible through the thick summer brush.

Straining my ears, I wait. Listening for any sign of life but there’s nothing except the rustling of leaves from the breeze.

Emerging from the hunting blind, and making my way across the grass to the side of the building, I brace my body up against the mill.

The rough wood siding scrapes along the exposed skin of my arms, and snags on my black t-shirt.

Hugging the building, I move along the side, then around to the front.

A red, four-door sedan sits to the far side of the old parking lot, and there in the dirt lies my uncle.

His familiar form is unmoving and grief grips me, stalling the organ in my chest. I dart light-footed across the gravel, kneeling in the coagulating blood pool to check for a pulse.

There isn’t one. What happened? Shit. My eyes blur, sinuses starting to sting, as the emotions of loss overcome me.

Focus, there will be time to mourn later.

Taking a deep, steadying breath and scrubbing my hands over my face, I recompose myself.

Snatching the keys to my captain’s cruiser off his belt, I head into the path towards it.

He’s laid branches across the hood and roof of the car, obscuring its location further from any wandering eyes.

The binoculars I was coming to grab are sitting right on the passenger seat as I open the door.

Knowing in his last moments he was watching someone with my woman twists something inside me.

He died trying to protect her, I know it.

There’s a small window to the right of the main door of the mill.

Moving through the woods, I find a tree that will have the best vantage point to look through it, and I climb up.

Once high enough, I peer through the binoculars.

The window is caked in grime and dust but there’s enough visibility that I can make out two figures.

One is pacing slowly, and the other is sitting like a rock.

In this moment, I’m kicking myself for leaving the rifle behind.

This could’ve been done and over with so efficiently. Stupid, stupid, Lennox.

Dropping out of the tree, I head back to the cruiser and open the driver’s side door.

Leaning against it, I heave in a deep breath to steady my nerves.

I pull off my radio, silence it, and toss it onto the seat of the car.

Then, I pull the mask from my back pocket, staring at it like it holds the secret to getting us both out of here alive. It doesn’t, obviously.

Sliding it over my face is a reawakening.

A warmth spreading through me that I haven’t felt in a very long time, filling up a part of me that’s been neglected since before Mallory went missing.

A seamless melding of my darkness with the civilized parts of my persona.

I feel whole…grounded, no longer weak and untethered.

A ravenous thirst for vengeance sparks within my chest, burning a path to the cock between my legs.

The vision of claiming my woman in a pool of this man’s blood runs through my head.

I’ll let her kill him if it’s what she wants.

I’ll string him up from those fucking rafters, replacing every touch of his with my tongue as he sways above us.

I’ll erase her screams of pain with the screams of pleasure that have only ever belonged to me.

Whatever she wants, I’ll give it to her.

His death can be a mystery to everyone but us if it’s what she craves.

Desire in all forms flows through me, and I need to satiate the urge with my hands around his neck. Subdue, don’t kill, Ghost. The decision is hers to make.

Adrenaline amps me up as I bounce on my feet, readying myself for what’s to come. I reach into the car and flick the sirens on.

Game on.