by Gina LaManna
“We’re here for you. It doesn’t matter what you find in there.” Meg pushed a pumpkin basket brimming with candy towards me. “Just go up there and knock, then come back here and stuff your face full of candy. Probably your adrenaline is pumping so hard you can eat this entire bucket and not gain a pound, you twig.”
“Will you hold my hair if I puke?” I asked, trying to lighten the mood.
“Nope, that’s Anthony’s job.” Meg pointed an accusatory finger in his direction.
Anthony looked alarmed. “What?”
“I’m kidding. I’m not going to puke.” I stood up. “Probably.”
“Lacey, you have to make the decision yourself.” Anthony reached for my hand, clasping it between his. “No matter what we think, no matter what we say, it’s your choice. We can also drive away, go to Dairy Queen, and forget this happened.”
“You’d take me to DQ?” I raised an eyebrow.
Anthony gave me a resigned look. “I want to see you happy. Whatever it takes. So yes, even ice cream cake.”
I leaned over and gave him a kiss on the corner of the mouth. “You are great. All of you,” I said. “I’m going to do it. I’m gonna knock.”
“Are you sure you’re ready?” Clay asked.
“Not in the slightest.” I opened my eyes wide. “But I might as well get it over with while I’m hopped up on gummy bears and sour patch kids and have you guys in my getaway car.”
Meg bobbed her head with a solemn expression. “Any second thoughts, and you just hightail it back here and we’ll take off. Literally, we can fly to the moon. Clay said so.”
“He might have been exaggerating,” I said, glancing at Clay’s reddening face. “To impress you…oh, never mind.” I stopped talking as Clay violently shook his head back and forth. “Just kidding. The van can fly. Probably.”
“Fly off the curb,” Anthony murmured as he pulled me in for a tight bear hug, releasing me just as quickly. “Good luck, sugar.”
Without giving myself a chance to second guess my decision, I flung the back doors to the van open and stepped out. I forced my feet to walk the short distance to the house whose address Clay had discovered online, from his initial list of several Jackson Coles.
Somehow, my cousin had run his algorithms and figured out that this particular Jackson Cole had the highest chance of being the man who’d dated my mother. Which didn’t mean he was my father by a long shot. But even if he wasn’t, maybe he’d have more information. Another clue. Somewhere else I could look for my real dad.
I took a deep breath and approached the narrow sidewalk. It led up to an enclosed porch, small bushes lining either side of the front steps. A light glowed through the windows, and a flicker that might be a computer or a television blinked through the glass pane.
Taking a few more steps forward, my mind raced a hundred miles an hour as my brain flooded with all sorts of what ifs. There were so many reasons I wanted to turn around and hide out in the safety of Clay’s creep-mobile.
Still, I took another step. And then another.
Until I reached the front door.
A long window lined the left side of the door, the view inside the house unobscured by the sheer curtain drifting behind the glass. I raised a hand, pep-talking myself into delivering a firm knock.
But I chickened out.
Lowering my hand, I allowed myself one tiny peek through the window. I shouldn’t look. But maybe if I could get a sense of the furniture inside, I’d get a feel for…oh, who was I kidding? I was terrified to knock and I was nosy. I wanted a preview of the house and a sneak peek of the man who lived behind the door. Plus, peeking was easier than knocking.
The view through the window showed a simple entryway, a plain black jacket hanging in the hallway. I shivered, the jacket reminding me that winter was fast approaching and, as we were less than an hour from November, the temperatures were dropping quickly. The scent of snow hung heavy in the night air.
I craned my neck a bit more. Why not? I’d already peeked a little bit, I might as well make it worthwhile.
Branching out from the entryway was a small room from which the flickering light emerged. Squinting and leaning my nose towards the window, I could see that the room was empty, but the glare of a computer screen illuminated plenty.
The space must be an office. Next to the monitor hung a full length whiteboard, glinting in the dark night and filled with pictures of…
Shocked, I stumbled backwards.
“No,” I mumbled, the images seared into my mind. I stumbled again. “No, no, no.”
I took a step backwards, twisting my ankle as I fell down the steps. I cried out, my heart racing miles per minute, pain shooting through my leg, adrenaline coursing through my already volatile stomach.
Pushing myself up from the ground, I limped backwards, managing to glance towards Clay’s van as I did so. Anthony had one foot out of the van, one foot inside, a concerned look on his face.
I gave a wild shake of my head. “No,” I called. “Go!”
Anthony stepped closer. “No,” I said, this time louder. I tried to keep my voice down, but it was more important that Anthony heard me and got back in that damn van. I waved my hands like a lunatic. “Go!”
Meg, Clay, and Anthony looked like they were conferring and, just as I hobbled away from the front steps, an iciness slid down my spine. I knew before I even turned around that someone had opened the door to Jackson Cole’s house.
And that someone was watching me.
“May I help you?” a deep voice rumbled across the lawn.
“No,” I gasped. “Sorry, I tripped…” I kept my face averted.
“Let me help you,” he said. “I can call someone.”
Footsteps approached from behind, and I moved faster than I’d ever moved in my life, hopping my way to the van. I pushed away the pain, focusing on the car door which, thankfully, remained open. Luckily, Anthony and company had retreated inside the vehicle like I’d asked.
“Stop,” the man called. “Who are you? You’re injured, let me call for help.”
“Go away,” I called, still not turning to look. He was gaining on me, I could feel it. With a cry that curdled my own blood and a gasp that took my last breath, I launched myself into the van.
“Lacey, what happened?” Meg asked.
“Go!” I moaned. “Just go!”
Anthony had his business hat on, slamming the van door shut and shaking sense into Clay, urging him to pull away from the curb.
“Move it, Clay. Faster!” Anthony snapped, when Clay still didn’t react. “Now.”
The deathly tone of Anthony’s voice was enough to whip Clay into action, careening away from the curb and sailing right past the house of Jackson Cole. As promised, we flew right off the curb.
Only when we’d driven miles away, pulling over at a gas station to grab some ice for my foot, did anyone speak.
“What did you see, Lacey?” Anthony sat next to me in the back of the van, my foot in his lap as he gently massaged my calf and iced my ankle.
Clay turned back from the driver’s seat, listening closely, while Meg sat cross-legged next to me, slurping a huge Icee.
“I—” I shook my head. “I don’t know what it means.”
Anthony ran his hands up and down my legs, waiting patiently for me to regain my composure.
“I can interpret for ya,” Meg said. “Give it a shot. Just start mumbling incoherently, like you always do.”
I sucked in a deep breath, wishing the painkillers would kick in any time now. My foot throbbed and my head pounded, making it all the more difficult to speak.
“I could see through the window on his porch,” I said. “And it led straight into his office.”
Meg watched me, the straw of her Icee forgotten in her mouth, her eyes wide. “And?”
“And there were photos. Lots of photos attached to a whiteboard. Lots of lines, lots of documents, strands of yarn like in A Beautiful Mind. I couldn’t read the n
ames under the photos, but it looked like the offices of TV detectives when they’re looking for a missing person.” I swallowed. “Or a bad guy.”
Anthony looked downward.
Clay cleared his throat.
Meg bit her lip. “And did you recognize the photos?”
I hesitated, then gave a curt nod. “Yes.”
“Who, Lacey?” Anthony asked, as if he already knew the answer. A pained expression crossed his face, his eyes a tinge forlorn. “Whose picture was on his board?”
I swallowed, unable to meet Anthony’s expression.
He reached out, gently tilting my chin upwards until our gazes locked.
Suddenly, I couldn’t look away, I couldn’t speak. I became frozen.
“Who?” he asked.
When I managed to speak, my voice came out in a hoarse whisper. “You.”
THE END
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Note from the author:
Thank you to all my readers, especially those of you who have stuck with me from the beginning of Lacey’s story.
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I wouldn’t be here without all of you, so once again – thank you.
Thanks again for reading, and I hope you enjoyed the story!
To continue with the Luzzi Family…
See other books by Gina here:
List of Gina's Books!
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Lacey Luzzi: Seasoned—out in time for Christmas 2015!
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Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Epilogue
THE END
