Forbidden With Me - Leigh Lennon Page 0,38

just not Malia but Greenlyn, too. It’s not a bad call. The uniforms who went to the university to get her, brought both Malia and her roommate back to the safety of Stephen and Gail’s home. If someone is targeting Malia, Greenlyn could be a mark, too. “What’s going on?” Malia’s Converses scuff the wood floor as she pushes off to reach me, and my arms envelop her. Gail has Greenlyn embraced in her body.

“Honey, let me show you to your room for the night.”

Leading her away, Stephen catches my attention, following his wife down the hall. “Come get me if you need me.” He stops his advance. “I assume you’re staying, son?” I nod. “The boys’ room is all ready for you.”

I give him a curt nod, taking Malia’s hand into mine. “Come sit with me, sweetheart?” I ask, but I don’t give her a chance to answer.

“What’s going on?” My mind works on the correct words of what I should say, how I could say this to make any of this more acceptable in her small little world.

“Shit, sweetheart, there’s no easy way to tell you this, but…”

“But what?” Her raven hair is matted to her cheeks as I remembered from the night she was so young. The beautiful dark chocolates of her eyes tear up. My hand hovers over her cheeks, again a reminder she’s not mine to hold, to comfort, to keep.

“There’s been another murder.” I watch the color drain from her face and the fear flicker in her dark chocolates. I’ve seen her varying states of emotions since being back, but with one touch of my hand on hers, she relaxes into my embrace, throwing her arms around me.

“And it’s related to me? How?”

I close my eyes. I can’t bear to see this woman hurt, this woman torn to her central core. “I…um… fuck, Malia. The crime was staged the same way as your family’s had been. Down to the number of people and the way they were killed.”

Her hand reaches her trembling lip. “What? I don’t understand.” She closes her eyes when I don’t answer. “Are you telling me five more people were killed to make it look like my family?”

“The house was set up very similar to your old home,” I begin and she opens her mouth to talk, but nothing comes out when I continue. “And, actually, the family was smaller, and they used mannequins to make it look like it was the same size as your family.”

Her hands cover her face. Moving one, she asks, “And was there a little girl?”

Oh, shit. This breaks my heart; this breaks every part of me. “A little girl was represented by a mannequin.”

“When is this going to stop, Wells? When will this nightmare be over?” She falls into my embrace, and her tears soak my simple T-shirt. Her sobs aren’t merely sobs. They are wails that permeate my mind, and I’ll most likely never forget. They will be etched in my soul, like she has been since the age of nine. When I don’t think her body can take more, she begins to tremble. The closer I pull her to my body, the more her body quivers, but her cries subside. In a matter of seconds, she’s at peace as I’ve encircled my support around her. It tells me one thing; this is where she feels the most safe.

Her sleeping body is in my arms for the second time since returning to Seattle. I’m watching her, her raven hair is fanned all over my chest and my arms grip her tight when the door opens, and Matt lets himself into his childhood home. When he points at the kitchen, I move her over, and she curls to her side, as I swathe a blanket over her.

“Hey, sorry you got called away from your house.” He pulls out a pop for both of us. “Did Higgins get everything processed?” Matt isn’t in homicide, not anymore, but he’d been called in to walk the scene and look at the similarities.

He shakes his head, letting out a long exhale. “I think they’ll be there for a while. You know, once the press gets a handle on this, they won’t stop until they get a statement from Malia?”

“Yeah, I’ve thought about that. I think Malia should come to my home with me. There’s no reason to put your parents in harm’s way.”

He places his can down, and in the gaze of his eyes, I don’t have to hear