Page 71 of No Broken Promises

“She killed Boo,” he tells me. His voice is hoarse, as if he’s been crying. “I had that video, remember? Last night she left while I was in the office working, and she didn’t come back until almost five in the morning, covered in dirt and sweat. It was fucking weird, Parker. So I pulled the videos from the camera, and I saw her in the backyard, at the very edge of the camera’s range, with a fucking shovel, throwing something into the woods. It was creepy.” He lays his hands down on the metal table, palms down, and flexes his fingers nervously.

“What else, Artie? How do you know she killed Boo?”

He pulled the thumb drive from his pocket. “It’s the same one I tried to give you. I saw all the police outside earlier, and I started to get this really weird feeling that I should look at it. Taylor hates you, Parker. A deep and completely unnecessary hatred. She tried to demand that I stop talking to you. So when she threw something, I went and looked. I saw the jump drive, and then I watched the video right as Remy and Chief Townsend knocked on my door.” He sighs deeply, like he’s finally free of whatever is holding him down.

“I think she did all of it. I think she started the fire, too. Because after Boo died, I told her that I was looking for the video. And then the jump drive it was stored on disappeared from my desk. She knew that you didn’t want it. Fuck, Parker.” He wipes a tear from his eye. “I am so fucking sorry.” His anguish sits there, begging for redemption. But I have nothing left to give.

“Where is my son, Artie?”

My limbs are heavy, dragging when I want to rage. My tongue rests in my mouth, dry and aching for water. My heart slows until it feels like it will stop beating altogether while I wait for his answer.

“I don’t know, Parker. I really don’t know. All she said when she got home was that she had a grave to dig.”

The interrogation room door slams open, with Remy staring at me wild-eyed. “I know where he is.” His eyes dart to Artie. “She had a shovel? Said she dug a grave?”

Artie nods, and Remy grabs my hand. “Let’s go!”

He pulls me out the door and through the bullpen. Remy swears, stopping just long enough to get everyone’s attention.

“He’s at the cemetery. We’re gonna need an ambulance and something to dig with.”

28

REMY

The drive from Birch Police Department to the cemetery is the longest three minutes of my entire life. Never mind the weeks I spent in training for the Marine Corps. Or the months I’d spent overseas.

Nothing will ever hold a candle to the time it takes me to navigate through town to get to the cemetery.

“How do you know?” Parker’s quiet and broken voice demands my attention.

“When I checked the cemetery, I saw a new grave near Danny’s. But I didn’t think anything of it. I should have. Dammit!” My palm throbs as I slam my hand into the steering wheel. Before I can do anything else, I pull into the cemetery and park.

“Focus,” Parker orders softly.

More cruisers and trucks follow us in. I lead the way with Parker on one side and Daisy on the other with a shovel from the back of my cruiser in hand.

Linc falls into step next to me, and I look over to see the same torment I feel showing on his face.

“We’re gonna get him, Linc.”

Dom joins us, holding two shovels in his hand. “I brought extras.” He motions to them needlessly, but Parker reaches for one.

“Good,” she says. “The more hands, the better.”

We are getting close, so I nod to the fresh grave.

“Fucking hell, you weren’t kidding.” Dom scrubs his free hand down his face. “Remy, you should… I think you should get Parker out of here, just in case.”

“The fuck I’m leaving,” Parker snarls with the shovel in her hand. “I have literally had everything taken away from me by this godforsaken world. I’m not about to lose my son, not when I’m finally fucking happy.”

She slams the shovel into the dirt, and we join her. Tense minutes pass as more people arrive and silently start helping. Someone begins moving the dirt out of the way so we can work faster, and even though there are plenty of men trying to take her place, Parker doesn’t relent. She moves, just as furious as the rest of us, in a race to save Nox.

“Come on,” she grunts. “How fucking deep did she bury him?”

Doubt creeps in at Parker’s words, and I wipe the sweat from my brow while hiding my grimace. Maybe I am wrong. Maybe she didn’t bury him here. We are almost six feet deep already, and wider than any grave should ever be. But we have to be for all four of us to fit and be able to move at the same time. At least ten feet wide, our group keeps digging until there is plenty of room.

“I hope I don’t get bit by a zombie,” Dom mutters. “Fucking zombies.”

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