by Skyla Madi
Mikey shrugged. “We’ve met a few times, but I wouldn’t say I know him. I certainly didn’t know you were his daughter.”
“Oh. He never mentioned it, ever?”
Mikey rubbed his face with his hands. “I can’t believe she’s dead.”
She wondered if he purposefully ignored the question. Not that she blamed him, the news that Cynthia was gone for good had to be overwhelming even if they hadn’t gotten along. Her question was a topic for another time.
Brad cleared his throat. “Hey, anyone interested in having breakfast? I might know a chef that can whip something up.”
“What time is it?” Mikey asked, yawning.
“Almost six o’clock,” Andrea announced.
“Shit. Yeah, there’s eggs and stuff to make a couple of omelets or something in the fridge,” he told Brad. He stood up and looked at Grace with a lopsided grin, holding a hand out to her. “Hungry?”
“I guess. What about Bray, should we wake him?”
“I wanna let him sleep. He’ll be fine.”
Grace placed her hand in Mikey’s and they walked into the kitchen where Brad was already destroying the place and making way too much noise.
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
Grace
On Tuesday morning, Grace forced herself to leave Mikey and Brayden’s side to go to work. She finished the last of her extended deadline returns and looked at the clock on her office wall.
When her father poked his head around the door jamb she glared at him. “What do you want?”
“I want to talk.” Harry held his palms up. He came in and closed the door behind him. She leaned back in her chair with her arms folded across her chest. “I think you need—”
“Nice. Don’t bother asking me how my boyfriend is doing or anything.”
“I won’t. Grace, this guy is bad news.”
She rolled her eyes. “You don’t even know him.”
“I do too. I’ve interviewed him a few times.”
“Interviewed him? For what?”
“Figures he didn’t tell you.”
“Tell me what?”
“Mikey Hardin is a suspect in the murder of those women. Or he was until Sunday.”
She placed her hands on the top of her desk. “What are you—what?”
Her father paced the floor then stopped at a photograph sitting on a file cabinet of Grace and her mom taken on the beach two months before she died. He picked up the frame. “Your hair is the same color as your mother’s.”
“Dad, please.”
“He knew the victims, or had contact with them.”
Grace listened to her father with her mouth hung open.
“I know you like this guy, Gracie, but I’m not sure he’s the one. Obviously he’s lied to you.”
“You think he killed them?” Her stomach churned.
Harry set the picture back down and turned toward her. “It doesn’t matter what I think.”
“Yes it does.”
“I’m not sure of anything. But…” he sighed, “my gut says no. However, smoke often leads to fire, and alarms are going off in my head.”
Grace wanted to bang her head on her desk. She had let herself care for Mikey. She even liked his son, and she didn’t really feel comfortable around children. “This is just great.”
Harry stared at her. “I’m sorry. I want you to be safe and I’m afraid if you keep hanging around him you’ll end up dead. We still haven’t caught this guy.”
“Do you think the perp is the same guy that attacked me?”
Harry’s silence answered her question. She sat quietly and stared at the stack of papers on her desk. When her father sighed, her eyes flipped up to his.
“I only want what’s best for you. I can’t lose you. If he’s lied about something as big as this, what else has he not told you the truth about? Do you want that kind of drama in your life?”
Grace refused to cry in front of her dad. Her head ached. “Please leave. I want to be alone.”
“Just think about it. I love you, Gracie.”
Her tears stung her eyes. Thankfully, her father left her office before she cried. He paused outside the doorway, cursed softly, and then disappeared down the hall.
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
Mikey
Cynthia’s body had been taken to Rose and Son’s Funeral Home. Marie sat next to Mikey in the funeral director’s office. The first twenty minutes his ex-mother-in-law blubbered to Daryl Rose, Jr. about how good a mother her daughter had been and how she wanted Cynthia remembered for her selfless nurturing. Mikey clenched his jaw during the whole nauseating load of crap. Mr. Rose suggested she speak with their grief counselor before leaving. Instantly and miraculously her tears dried up.
The director placed a color brochure on the end of the desk open to the caskets they had available. “This model is our most popular. I think you’ll find the price point reasonable.”
Marie scanned the standard features. “Hmm…I’d like this one, in the burgundy.”
“You have fine taste. We always have this particular model on-site. It’s on display in our showroom.”
Mr. Rose stood. “If you’ll step right this way, you can have a look.”
Mikey took a deep breath and followed after Marie with Daryl at the head. The showroom consisted of five pine boxes. Mr. Rose explained the differences in each one and the features. Two were mahogany, one plastic, and one was covered with a thin metal. Mikey thought the man said brass but he couldn’t be certain. The one Marie eyed was made of fiberglass in a light shiny burgundy. The inside was lined with pink satin.
Marie placed her hand on top of the casket. “What did you say the price point was?”
Rose stroked his silk tie. “Four thousand.”
Mikey nearly choked to death on his own tongue.
Oh, is that all?
“Is this the floor model price?” Marie asked without a hint apprehension, like she was questioning a used car salesman.
“I’m sorry?” The mortician furrowed his brow. “Floor model?”
“Yes. If the casket is a demo, I should receive a discount.”
Mikey shook his head. Marie was actually trying to haggle the price down.
The undertaker cleared his throat. “Our prices are very reasonable, Ms. Dove.”
“Yes. I know, you said. But—”
“The prices are not negotiable.” He sounded well practiced in his response.
“Oh nonsense, everything is negotiable, Mr. Rose.”
“I’m afraid not in this case. Perhaps, I can interest you in this one over here?” He stepped to the gray coffin with the plastic sheathing. “This one is priced at two thousand five hundred.”
Marie had the look of someone deep in thought. “Hmm…how much are these other two?”
Mr. Rose smoothed his tie again. “The mahogany is nine thousand and the brass trimmed is five. Thousand.”
“I’ll take the gray.”
“Good choice. We have a few more things to discuss and you can be on your way,” Mr. Rose said.
They were once again led back to the man’s office. Marie explained she wanted a pink rose arrangement laid over the coffin during the funeral. A small bouquet of Cynthia’s favorite flower, the peace lily, was chosen for Brayden to place inside the casket. Mikey’s intestines knotted up. At one point he reached for the brass trash can beside the desk but kept his lunch down.
“Just to confirm, the funeral will start at one, directly following the viewing that begins at ten, this Friday morning,” Mr. Rose said.
Mikey shook hands with him. Marie did not.
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
Mikey
After dropping off Marie at the hotel, Mikey drove over to see Grace at work. He looked at himself in the visor mirror. His eyes were red-rimmed and baggy underneath.
She frowned when he sat down in the chair across from her desk.
“I look that bad, huh?”
Grace didn’t smile. Somethi
ng was wrong; he felt the tension between them.
He tilted his head back to look at the drop ceiling for a moment. “I take it you spoke to your dad?”
“No.” She sighed. “Yes. I—why did you lie to me?”
“I’m sorry. I should have told you before, but, shit…what was I supposed to say? F-Y-I, I’m a murder suspect. I didn’t do anything but you have to trust me. Yeah, right, like you would’ve believed me.”
“I might have. Now we’ll never know.” She got up from her desk and headed for the door.
Mikey face-palmed.
Breathe.
He thought he heard a vacuum as all the air was sucked out of the room. His ass stayed glued to the chair. There was a high probability that his legs wouldn’t support his weight if he tried to stand. He’d only come here because he couldn’t wait until later to see her. Now this would be the last time. He smoothed his hair back with both hands. Cynthia was no doubt laughing at his pain wherever she was spending her afterlife.
Grace’s hand was on the doorknob. “I want you to leave.” Her voice broke on the last word. Tears rolled down her cheeks. He wanted to wipe them away.
“Grace—”
“No, don’t. Don’t tell me you’re sorry, don’t tell me you’re innocent, and don’t tell me you care, just don’t.”
Mikey respected her wishes. He kept his head down to avoid her eyes as he approached the door. She made a sweeping motion with her hand and flattened herself against the door like he had the plague, her head turned to the side. He wasn’t sure what bothered him more; her ending things or her physical reaction.
He passed through the door and out of her life without saying a word.
Mikey punched his way out of Grace’s office building. The stifling, breezeless summer air hit his face, adding to his slow suffocation. He didn’t remember the ride home. Brayden had waited on the porch for him. Andrea stood behind him in the lee of the front screen door.
“Dad, when is Grace coming home? She promised to help me with something.”
Mikey knew Brayden wouldn’t accept anything but the truth on this. “I don’t think she’s coming back.”
“What’d ya mean? Like never?” The hurt expression on Brayden face cut him to the core.
“I’m so sorry, Dad screwed up.”
Brayden burst into tears and ran down the sidewalk. Andrea stepped outside. “Better go after him,” she told Mikey, but he was already on his way.
“Brayden…stop!” Man, his son could run fast. “Where are you going?” Panting, Mikey quickly became winded with the little amount of energy he had left. Brayden slowed then stopped six houses down from where Mikey was doubled over.
Mikey swallowed and gasped. He waved his son back. Brayden looked around like he was deciding what the better option would be then came toward him.
He took Brayden’s hand and knelt in front of him. A snot bubble inflated and deflated with every breath. Brayden wiped his nose on his arm.
He searched his son’s face. “I’m sorry. I’m not going to pretend to know how you feel.”
His son nodded. “Okay.”
“I’m going to hug you now, if that’s all right with you.”
“Yeah,” he said, sniffling.
Mikey scooped Brayden up. They held onto to each other sobbing on the sidewalk. Several neighbors looked out their windows, including Davis. Mikey set him down and started back home.
“Sorry, I ran,” Brayden said.
“I understand.” He put his arm around Brayden.
“What happened with Grace?” Brayden asked tentatively. “I really like her.”
“I know. Me too.” He rubbed one of his temples.
“Can’t you apologize or something?”
“I wish it were that simple. I’m not sure she’ll ever forgive me.”
“So you didn’t say you were sorry then?”
“I did, but it’s not enough.”
Brayden glanced up at him. “What did you do?”
Mikey took a deep breath. “I lied to her.”
“That was dumb. Why? About what?”
“It’s complicated. Adult stuff.”
“Fine,” he sighed, “don’t tell me. When will I be old enough for complicated?”
Never.
CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
Grace
The drive to her dad’s house made Grace feel like a child. She meant to pull into his driveway. Instead she found herself parked next Natalie’s Jeep across the street. Music blared out of the side kitchen door. The words rang inside her head, something about following your heart or some nonsense. Yeah, she’d tried that.
Grace banged on the metal screen door and looked inside. Natalie was mopping the floor. Her mother’s best friend looked up and smiled. She waved her inside then leaned over and turned Lynyrd Skynyrd’s “Simple Man” down.
“Hi,” Natalie said.
“Hey. You think I could stay here a while? Just until my apartment is safe to return to.”
“Of course. You are always welcome.”
“Thanks.” Grace plopped down on the stool parked in front of the kitchen island, her body practically melting.
“Uh oh, what happened?” Natalie put the mop in the bucket. “Come here.” She patted her shoulder.
Grace edged off the stool and went to Natalie. Tears formed in her eyes and she heaved with a sob.
“Oh, honey, tell me what happened.” Natalie embraced her.
“Mikey lied to me. He’s a suspect in those murdered girls cases. Oh, Natalie!”
The woman’s back stiffened. “What? Your father doesn’t think he’s guilty, does he?”
“No. Well, he did, but after his ex-wife was murdered and he was with me the whole time or with his son, the police don’t think it’s him anymore.”
Natalie broke the hug and Grace stepped backward.
“So he lied about being a murder suspect? Do you blame him?” She searched Grace’s eyes.
“That’s not the point. If he lied about this, what else is he hiding?”
“Did you ask him?”
“No. I told him to leave my office. And besides, how would I know if he was telling me the truth anyway?”
“I dunno, but I know one thing, you were a lot happier than I’d seen you in a long time. I know it was because of Mikey.”
“But God, even if he is completely innocent, there is so much drama in his life. How is there room for me and…” Mikey was a full-time father now. She wasn’t going to pretend she was ready for step-parenting or step-girlfriending now.
Crap.
Brayden. She’d promised to help him figure out a way to honor his mother other than a grave marker. Grace put her hands over her mouth.
“What is it, Grace?”
“I just remembered I promised to help Brayden with something.” She cursed under her breath.
Natalie leaned a hip against the kitchen center island. “With what?”
“He wanted to honor his mother in some special way. We talked about it, only the two of us.”
“Oh, that’s so sweet.” Natalie’s eyes welled with tears.
“Shit. Now you’re making me cry all over again. I’m such an asshole. If I don’t help, I’m completely selfish for disappointing a child in the wake of his mother’s murder, aren’t I?” Grace leaned her arms on the counter in front of her and buried her face in the crook of her elbow.
“A little bit. But I think he’ll understand.” Natalie put a hand on Grace’s forearm.
“Will he?”
CHAPTER FIFTY
Mikey
The open road always cleared Mikey’s head. He’d left Brayden with Andrea for a few hours. The engine of his Harley roared while he revved the throttle. Trees whipped past him at an alarming speed.
The last of the sun dipped below the horizon and Mikey turned his bike back toward the city. He’d intended on heading in the direction of his house. He’d meant to leave Grace alone. Instead he rode past his neighborhood a
nd right into the parking lot of her apartment building.
What am I doing here?
Cody was still out there. She wouldn’t be staying at her place yet.
He brought the motorcycle to a stop in the circular drive in front of the building and put his feet down on the pavement. A red carpet lined the wide path to the entrance, which sat under a red awning. He lifted his eyes to the brass accented revolving doors. The doorman’s brows rose in recognition and he approached Mikey.
“Can I help you?”
“No…unfortunately you can’t.”
“Women,” the other man said with a nod and stepped backward. Mikey rolled away from the curb.
Back on the street, he tried to think of Natalie’s last name. Grace had introduced them several times and the first time she’d said the woman’s full name.
Mc something…McCormick? McGregor, that’s it.
Mikey pulled into a gas station and took out his phone. He dialed information. Only one Natalie McGregor lived in the area.
Natalie’s porch light shone brightly in an otherwise dark neighborhood. He cut the engine and coasted up the driveway. This wasn’t the smartest idea Mikey ever had. Grace had made it clear she wanted nothing more to do with him. Plus, he was guessing this was where Grace was hiding out.
“What the fuck are you doing?” he whispered.
Mikey started to back down the driveway when the garage door trundled up and Grace walked out. Their eyes met and they both froze. He wanted to call out her name. She looked soft in the glow from the garage.
“Mikey,” Grace whispered. “What are you doing here?” She looked around then across the street.
“I…I’m leaving—”
“How did you find me?”
“She’s listed.” He jerked his head in the direction of the house. “Sorry. I shouldn’t be here. I’ll…I’ll go.” He stood to start the bike.
“No, wait.”
He paused and looked at her. Her lips were a thin line. She didn’t say anything more so he got his bike going and sped away as thunderously as possible. Harleys were great noisemakers, thank God. He wanted to make a statement.
