Page 41 of Grave Possession (Grave #2)

Chapter Thirty-three

Graves

“ T hanks, Grey. Keep me updated on her progress, and if anything happens at the station, don’t hesitate to call me.”

“Yes, sir. All has been quiet so far,” Officer Smith replies.

“Don’t say shit like that, you’ll jinx yourself,” I chuckle.

“I think we’ve had our fill of bad luck for a while, sir. Back to speeding tickets, bored teenagers, and getting the town drunks home safe.”

“I hope you’re right, have a good night.”

“You too, Captain.”

Click.

I slip my phone back into my pocket and take a seat in one of the deck chairs.

Staring up at the stars has me wishing Mallory was curled up in my lap.

We’d be wrapped in a blanket while I point out the constellations, stealing as many of her addicting kisses under the moonlight as I can.

But she’s sleeping. This is the longest stint thus far, and I don’t want to disturb her.

When my work phone started vibrating, I quickly bolted my ass out of bed as to not wake her.

Stealthily moving through the house, and out the back door before answering the call.

I barely sleep anymore. My nervous anxiety won’t grant me a moment’s peace, constantly nagging that she’ll be snatched away from me again.

I can’t stand to have her out of my sight.

Even now, I feel like there’s a boulder on my chest, and I can’t get a full breath into my lungs.

The times we’re apart nearly send me into a full-on downward spiral.

Thankfully, Greyson Smith has stepped up considerably in my long stretches of working from home.

He’s quickly earned his way to the top and became my second in command, ensuring everything runs smoothly, and nothing gets forgotten or swept under the rug.

He even makes the long trek out to Mallory’s house so we can meet and cover things I could have gone into the station for.

He says he doesn’t mind and that he likes the drive, knowing Mallory needs me right now.

However, I suspect he’s checking up on Mal himself, and reporting her well-being back to Victoria.

Those two have grown extremely close since he got her out of that hell-hole of a cabin.

She damn near shot his head off when he came through the door without announcing himself, but luckily she hit the doorframe instead.

Then, she had to comfort him as he spewed his guts when the smell emanating from the cellar hit him full-force.

They’ve been pretty inseparable since, driving a wedge between her and Jackie.

Victoria couldn’t take it anymore so she left, moving into my uninhabited house.

She didn’t once question the trashed condition she found it in, just thanked me for a safe and quiet place to live.

I felt like such shit about it, I hired a cleaning crew and gave Greyson the day off so she wouldn’t be alone in the house with strangers.

My bungalow is just down the road from both the precinct and Smith’s place so he’s never too far when she needs him.

He’s become her lifeline through the after effects of what she went through, and I’m thankful she has him.

Victoria and Mal have drifted apart since seeing each other in the hospital.

I don’t know what exactly is going on with them, but I’m sure they’ll reach out to each other when they’re ready.

Work is fucking chaos. How Johnson went undetected for so long is utterly baffling, to say the least. Crossing county lines, and killing in different jurisdictions aided his sadistic needs.

Shedding a much needed light on how important it is to exchange information between departments.

The body count is still climbing as the area around the cabin is searched with cadaver dogs.

The city department operating seamlessly with us, and the anthropologists who work tirelessly to date and identify the many bodies being unearthed.

I truly fear we’ll never find all his victims, the full extent of his savagery never to be totally revealed.

The weight is heavy on my shoulders to do the best I can as the new police captain of Crystal Creek.

How do I know when to close the case? How can I ever be the one to decide when we stop searching for bodies?

Sgt Jefferds and I will have to agree when the time comes; I won’t be pressured into something that isn’t morally right.

These victims are people’s loved ones, and knowing I’d never have stopped searching for Mallory lingers in my mind.

I’ll never feel right pulling the teams out of the woods, but life moves on, even when we don’t want it to.

Just as the Haunt will move on this year without my uncle.

It needs to. I just worry I’m not strong enough to host it, that I’m not the right person to carry on the legacy.

The town survives because of the debaucherous party, the much needed revenue flooding in when those gates open.

I’ve been warned how dire the situation was before the Haunt began.

I won’t be the reason Crystal Creek becomes a ghost town, even if they linger in the darkest corners of this place.

Oscar Graves deserves to be honoured, as does my aunt, Deanna.

It’s what my uncle wanted, and I intend to make it happen.

Even with Officer Johnson six feet under, I’m sure I’ve barely scratched the surface of what he truly did to Mallory, or even Victoria.

Their police statements pale in comparison to what runs through my head.

Greyson told me to leave it alone, knowing won’t make anything better, for either Mal or I.

While I agree, how can I help if I don’t know where to start?

Do I just imagine the most heinous shit known to man and start there?

I know Vic left things out, Grey confirmed it, saying there’s no need to put it on record since Ted’s no longer on this plane of existence.

I’m not a religious man, but I pray to whatever deity running the underworld that Johnson is suffering endless torment for all the pain he’s caused.

And still continues to cause.

Mallory’s blood-curdling scream slices through the tranquil night, and I launch myself off the chair.

Springing into action immediately, I race across the deck to the back door, but it’s locked.

A safety precaution I was insistent upon, now a thorn in my side as I key in the passcode.

The light flashes red, and I wait until it stops to try again.

Auto-locking doors: great in theory, not in an emergency.

1-1-0-6. I key in again, and the light flashes green, the mechanical sound of the lock disengaging slower than fucking ever.

I fling open the door, dashing towards our bedroom.

I never should have gone outside, never should have left her.

Where is she? Her body crashes into mine, kicking and flailing in the midst of another PTSD induced nightmare.

I willingly take the hits, kicks, and scratches, it’s less than I deserve for failing her so monumentally.

“Get off me!” she screams. She doesn’t mean that, she doesn’t know it’s you.

“Shhh,” I try to soothe her. “Mallory. Breathe.” Her movements slow as the sound of my voice worms its way through her panic. “Baby, it’s me.” She stops, the fear lifting as I clear the hair from her eyes. Her body is on fire as she tremors in my hands.

“Nox?” she gasps.

“I’m here.”

“You’re here,” she echoes.

“What do you need?” Her hand touches my cheek, tracing along the side of my face, across my forehead, and down to the tip of my nose.

“You’re alive.”

“I’m alive,” I verify. Clasping her hands in mine, I bring them to my mouth and gently kiss the top of each. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here when you needed me. I just stepped out to take a call, and didn’t want to wake you.”

“That’s okay, you’re here now.” She smiles sweetly, gaze never leaving my face, like she’s afraid I’ll evaporate if she looks away for even a moment.

I know the feeling. The unending terror of never seeing her again. The relentless torment of how I almost lost her forever.

After being shot, I collapsed from blood loss.

A useless dead weight on the floor of the mill after showing her my face.

She never ceases to amaze me, even after all she had been through, she stayed focused enough to cut my shirt to shreds, using them as bandages to slow the blood flow.

Never hesitating to apply a little more pressure than necessary if I started to slip into unconsciousness.

My little siren made damn sure to keep me there with her, lucid and breathing.

She called for help from my phone, which was already on the way thanks to Victoria and Officer Smith.

When the cavalry showed up, Mal made sure to give them an earful.

Naked and unashamed, she threatened the EMT’s when they tried to split us up.

Her angry voice kept me tethered, preventing me from falling into total unconsciousness.

When we reached the hospital, she offered up her blood selflessly to save my life.

I needed a transfusion, and with no O negative on-hand, we would’ve had to wait for it to be delivered from elsewhere.

No one knew how long that would take. As luck would have it, Mallory’s the same blood type as me.

After a quick screening test, they tapped her vein and started the process.

I didn’t find any of this out until after the fact, of course, having been sedated almost immediately upon arrival because I refused to leave her.

Had I known in the moment, no fucking way would I have made her do that. She’d been through enough.