“They did. That’s true.”
“I really think they were good guys, Sar. Don’t you? And they definitely seemed like they could kick some ass.” Jenna’s blue eyes were almost pleading.
Yeah. She thought so, too. Crystal nodded, her stomach flip-flopping at the idea of seeing Shane again. Especially after the way she’d run away from him the other night. “Okay, I’ll talk to Shane and see what he thinks.”
Jenna grinned. “Shane, huh?” Somehow, those two little words managed to draw heat to Crystal’s cheeks. Her sister’s eyes flew wide. “Oh, my God!”
“Sshh,” Crystal said again.
Laughing, Jenna leaned closer. “You like him?”
Her sister’s perceptiveness threw Crystal off-balance. “I . . . I . . .”
“You do!”
Crystal grabbed Jenna’s hands. “Okay, okay. Whatever,” she said, playing it off. No point encouraging girl talk about a guy Crystal could never have. “The most important thing in all of this is acting like nothing’s changed, Jenna. You have to promise me. Go to your classes. Hang out with your friends. Go shopping. And whatever you do, make nice with Bruno if you see him again.”
Jenna sat back and nodded. “Okay, I will.”
“Promise me?”
“I promise,” Jenna said. “As long as you promise we’re not waiting eight months.”
Crystal blew out a long breath and met her sister’s determined gaze. She wasn’t a little kid anymore, was she? In just a few weeks, she wouldn’t even be a teenager anymore. She was a brave, smart, strong woman, and Crystal admired her. And in this moment, Jenna was right. “I promise. You got a deal.”
“We’re gonna be all right, Sis. Don’t worry.” Jenna smiled.
“Yeah, we are,” Crystal said. And for the first time in a long time, she came pretty close to believing it.
Chapter 17
When the knock finally sounded against Shane’s bedroom door, he’d expected it. After they’d returned to Hard Ink the previous night, the only talking Shane had been up to was to share what Garza had said about another delivery happening Friday night. Then Shane had handed off his camera and called it quits on the day. The other guys had stayed up to debrief the op, but Shane’s mood had been for shit, his emotions were too volatile, and his brain was so scrambled, he wouldn’t have been of any analytical use to anyone anyway.
Late, late in the night, he’d finally managed to calm the storm raging in his head long enough to fall asleep for a few hours, but his dreams had been a relentless, horrifying, and heartbreaking search for Molly that always had him showing up moments too late or running into a dead end.
He woke up more tired and strung out than when he’d gone to bed, so he’d lain in the early-morning gloom spilling in from the high window and tried to get his head screwed on straight.
No luck yet.
The knock came again.
Shane sighed and sat up against the headboard. It was then that he realized Molly’s butterfly necklace was still wrapped around his fingers from the night before. He’d been turning the chain round and round, looking for a little peace or wisdom or insight. He was still looking. “Come in,” he called.
The door eased open, revealing Nick, so recently out of the shower his hair was still wet, and damp spots showed through his black T-shirt where he hadn’t bothered to dry off. “What’s up?” he asked.
Shane just shook his head. “Need me for something?”
“No, man.” He came all the way in and closed the door behind him, then he leaned against it and crossed his arms. “That scene last night—”
“Don’t,” Shane bit out, more harshly than he’d intended, but he really couldn’t help himself. The memory of the women’s bodies being delivered into those boats made him feel a whole lot like a giant exposed nerve. And everything—his clothes, the covers, even the very air—rubbed it raw and made it hurt.
Nick pushed off the wall, crossed the room, and sat heavily on the edge of the bed. “I’m going there, Shane. And you need me to.”
Shane drew up his sweats-covered knees and rested his arms on them, the necklace dangling from the fingers of his right hand. “Damnit, Rix. I said, don’t—”
“There was nothing we could do. There was nothing you could do,” Nick said, turning toward him.
“I know,” Shane said. And he did. His rational self knew Nick was right. But that didn’t keep his heart from splintering inside his chest.
“Shane?”
He dragged his gaze up from the little silver chain and met Nick’s intense stare. “Yeah?”
For possessing such an unusually pale color, Nick’s eyes could be warm with sympathy when he wanted them to be. And now was one of those times. Shane should’ve realized what was coming. “Would you finally tell me what happened the day Molly disappeared?” Nick asked.
The question sucker punched him hard in the gut, stealing his breath and beckoning a rolling wave of nausea. The team knew Shane’s little sister had disappeared when Shane was a teenager and that he felt responsible, but not the details. In fact, the last person he’d told the details to had been an Army shrink during his SF in-processing.
“Why?” Shane whispered. All he could manage.
Nick raked his hand through his damp hair, once, twice. “Because what happened to her is eating you up like a cancer, and the harder you try to beat it back, the more aggressive it becomes. This situation is strumming that string so hard, I can’t help but think it’s gotta snap.” He shook his head. “I missed the thing with Merritt because I didn’t trust my gut. And right now, my gut’s saying you’re in trouble. I thought so before last night, but now, just looking at you, I know it’s true.”
Thoughts whirling, heart beating almost painfully in his chest, Shane braced his elbows on his knees and held up the necklace. Shane couldn’t remember when Molly had gotten it, but she’d loved it because it wasn’t a little girl’s piece of jewelry. It was a grown-up necklace, which meant the pendant had hung low on her chest. But she hadn’t minded. In fact, she’d thought she looked fancy. Her word.
Taking the butterfly into his fingers, he smoothed his thumb over the heart-shaped wings made of purple and white rhinestones.
“I found this—” Shane began, his voice catching. “I found it down the street from my house, lying on the curb.” He turned the butterfly over and over in his fingers. “She would never . . . never have dropped it on purpose.”
Wondering how it had come off? That was the stuff of which nightmares were made.
For a moment, Shane got sucked back into time, to that hot summer day. Late July. Him and Henry Waller and Kevin Ryan, his two best friends from his baseball team, were up in his room playing video games. His father had a round of golf that morning, and his mother was down the street at a bridal shower. Just for a few hours. And, besides, at thirteen, they occasionally left him to babysit Molly.
The first time Molly had knocked on his door, she’d wanted permission to get a snack. So Shane had okayed the Goldfish and juice box and sent her on her way.
The second time she’d knocked, she’d asked if she could play with them. Or, if not play, watch. But what teenage guy wanted his eight-year-old sister hanging out in his room with his friends? So he’d told her no and sent her on her way.
The third time she’d knocked, he’d been so annoyed at the constant interruptions that he’d wrenched open the door and told her to leave them alone. And, then, to drive home the point, he’d told her to go away.