More of You (Confessions of the Heart 1)

Then I froze because that feeling was back.

Something was amiss.

An ugly charge to the air that didn’t have a thing to do with the storm.

Was I going crazy? Had it all finally become too much? Because I was sure it was footsteps I heard inching down the staircase.

Terror racing my veins, I struggled to breathe and inched for the door, ready to make a call for help, only to stop when I noticed the light on in the bathroom attached to Bailey’s room.

Razors of fear scraped across my skin, and I edged that way, feeling like some kind of helpless, defenseless girl as I pushed out a shaking hand to nudge the door the rest of the way open.

Nothing but a fool who was afraid of the dark.

That had to be what this was. My imagination was finally getting the best of me.

Or maybe I was just afraid of the fact I was truly alone.

Then I gasped, hand flying to my mouth to stifle a scream.

The only sound in the bathroom was the constant drip, drip, drip coming from the tub faucet that was far too high for Bailey to reach.

Droplets steadily plopped into the water that filled the entire thing.

Floating facedown in it was one of Bailey’s favorite dolls.

Two

Jace

“We just finished getting her statement.”

I swallowed around the lump lodged in my throat as I stood on the sidewalk across the street from the police station, talking to Mack who was inside.

“How is she?” The words barely made it from between my lips.

He sighed on the other end of the line. “Not well, as you can imagine. Some asshole was definitely in that house. Slipped in and out with her barely noticing except for the fact she’d had the intuition that something was off. Pair that with the two letters she’s received, and the poor girl is terrified.”

Fury surged. So intense that I saw red.

I wanted to hunt someone down. Find them. End the threat. But every name I’d given Mack relating to Joseph had been a dead end.

So now I stood there like some piece-of-shit stalker, fighting the urge to pace like a lunatic or maybe bust through the station doors.

“What do I do?” I grated at the phone, at a loss. All the things I was aching to do might be frowned upon.

“You let me do my job. I could lose my badge for telling you any of this shit, so I need you to play it cool. Most of all, you need to give her space and time because you know she needs it. Deserves it. You can’t come in like some kind of vigilante thinking you’re going to set shit straight.”

He might as well have not said a thing with the words that fell from my mouth. “I need to find this asshole.”

He sighed. “It could be nothing more than kids playing a prank.”

“You really believe that?” I bit out.

Frustration bled from him. “No, I don’t. Gut tells me someone is trying to send a message. A warning. The question is why and what the fuck it has to do with Joseph’s death.”

I could hear him shuffling some papers in his office. “I am going to figure this out. I promise you that. But you need to give me the space to do it. I don’t know why the hell I called you in the first place.”

“You know why.”

He sighed again.

Of course, he knew.

He really didn’t have much of an option. There was too much history between us for him to keep me in the dark, even though he probably would have preferred to have left me hanging.

Out of his way so he could do his job.

But sometimes friendship and loyalty meant more than protocol.

The second Mack had called last night and told me the situation had escalated, there’d been nothing I could do.

I’d been in my car, a suitcase packed, the trip from Atlanta to Broadshire Rim made in three hours during the middle of the night. It was a small town twenty minutes outside of Charleston, and the one place I’d sworn to myself I’d never return to.

I hadn’t even thought it through.

The consequences.

What it was going to do to me or how being around her again was going to affect me.

The only thought I’d known was she was in trouble and I had to get to her.

Stop what should have been stopped a long time ago.

If only I could go back to that day and intervene. Make the right choice instead of the selfish, petulant one I had.

It had been one driven by bitterness and hatred.

One I’d regretted every single day since Mack had first called me and told me Joseph was gone.

Guilt clawed at my insides while this spot inside me screamed and groaned and demanded I cross the street, fly into the small police station, wrap her up, and take her away from here.