um . . . She was . . .” I hate saying it, hate muttering the words because brutally murdered should never accompany my sister even in name alone.
“Murdered.”
“Yes, but it was ugly. The papers called it ‘sliced,’ and that’s exactly what she looked like.”
“Holy shit, Trix, you saw her?” His hand grips my bare knee, and the firm hold and warmth feel safe, reliable. Protective.
I rip off a small section of jerky and shove it in my mouth. “Mm-hmm.”
“God. That must’ve been terrifying. Walking in on that kind of scene must’ve been brutal.” His grip tightens.
“Oh, I didn’t actually walk in.” It was cold. The smell of the room was like a mix between disinfectant and death. I’ll never forget the scent that death carries. “I identified the body.”
“Holy fuck.”
“I remember the sheet was shaking. At first, I thought maybe she’d woken up. I know that sounds stupid, but I just couldn’t believe she was gone, so . . . I peeled back the fabric, almost expecting her to jump out at me and say ‘Surprise, you’re such a sucker!’ but deep in my heart I knew that wasn’t Lana’s style.”
As kind and generous as she was, she was always serious. My dad said it was her strict Russian blood. I think she was haunted by the past, and whatever happened in that orphanage sucked all the silly right out of her.
“It was my hand holding the sheet that made it shake, and when I pulled it back, what I saw . . .” I pinch my eyes closed to push back the memory. “No one should ever have to see another human being as mangled as she was. I made myself stare at her, wouldn’t allow myself to look away because it was her. It was Lana, and . . . God, she was so good. So pure.” I blow out a long breath and shake my head. “It should’ve been me.”
“Trix, how can you say that? Tragic things happen all the time, but who’s to say one person deserves it more than another? It’s random and senseless.”
I consider his words: roll them over in my head even as every one of my instincts roars he’s wrong.
“What if it wasn’t?” I toss the rest of my jerky over the side of the truck bed. “They carved into her body, Mason, when she was still alive.” A shiver racks my body, and he throws his arm over me and pulls me close. I curl my arms around my belly, and allow his warmth to envelop me.
“They found her in the mountains, left there like a carcass for the animals to feed on.”
“Fuckin’ hell,” he mumbles.
“Her car was ditched on the side of the road. The cops believe whoever did it had lured her in by faking a flat tire or something. It was so like Lana to pull over and help someone if they needed it.”
“Sick sons of bitches.”
“After they found her in Redwood—”
“Wait, Redwood . . . the State Park?
“Mm-hm.”
“I think . . . I remember this story. She was headed out of town, so no one noticed her missing right away.”
I swallow hard and nod. I’m not surprised he’d heard about Lana on the news. The story ripped through all the local towns—a killer on the loose—and scared the shit out of everyone.
“Fucker responsible better be rotting away in prison.”
“Hmm.” No, he’s not. I roll my lips between my teeth to avoid giving too much away. I’ve already told him too much. “Thank you for listening.” I throw my arm over his firm abdomen and hold him to me. “I haven’t talked about her in so long. Not even Gia knows.” Truth is, by the time we got close enough where I could share it with her, she had enough of her own demons to wrangle.
His body stiffens. He kisses my head, slow firm presses of his lips that send a soothing heat through my torso. As he rests his cheek against my hair, I can feel his clenched jaw tick.
I push up and out of his hold, but he moves his hand back to my thigh, as if he needs to touch me more than I need his comfort. “Enough of the dark stuff, I don’t want Lana’s story to be what you remember about our date.”
“Our date. You say it like there won’t be others.”
I did? I guess I did. “Will there be?”
“If I have my way?” He grins. “Absolutely.”
Find them, Bea. Make them pay