Page 94 of Lost in the Moonlight

“Graffiti?” I was out of the sedan and rushing inside before Lincoln or the bodyguard could stop me. Nothing seemed amiss in the steel and granite kitchen. Everything was as spotless andshiny as Hector and I always left it. Nothing was wrong with his office as I flung my bag down and headed for the café itself. As soon as I saw it, my stomach bottomed out.

The beautiful mural on the wall was destroyed. Something had been tossed at it, bleach or acid, I didn’t know what, but splashes of the liquid had eaten away the paint. The girl dancing in the meadow, the animals congregating around her, and even the prince riding in on his white steed had all been hit so they were now a macabre image.

“No, no, no, no, no!” I cried, moving toward it. Written in red paint across the remaining pieces of the once beautiful scene were the words,Your life will never be a fairy tale.

Lincoln grabbed my hand, pulling me back away from the wall. “It’s fixable, Sweetness. It’s just paint. We can fix it.”

“You don’t understand,” I said, whirling to meet his concerned eyes. “Hector’s wife…his wife that died of cancer…she did all the murals. The ceiling. The painting on the shelves. He can’t just replace it…” My stomach cramped up so tight it made me hunch over.

He tried to pull me into him like he had repeatedly over the last few days, but this time, I was angry rather than frightened. I whirled around, looking at the men who’d accompanied us inside. “I want this person found. I want them found and held responsible. I need them to pay for this.”

One of them was already talking through his headset, and I heard him say Axel’s name.

I pulled my phone out, hitting Hector’s number with a shaky hand. He answered on the second ring. “Willow. What’s wrong?”

“Hector… God… The café.” I swallowed.

“Have we been robbed? I’m on my way,” he said and hung up before I could correct him.

Lincoln walked up to the mural, running a hand over the waves of bleached-out paint, sniffing his fingers.

“Turpentine,” he said, turning to me and repeating, “I can fix it, Willow. It won’t be the same because he’ll know what she did was marred, but I can fix it.”

“Axel is calling the local police, and he’s on his way,” the man said.

Not even fifteen minutes later, Hector raced into the café with Shay on his heels. They looked like they’d thrown on whatever clothes they’d touched first. I’d never seen Shay in anything but a perfectly pressed, coordinating outfit. Now she wore magenta leggings and a yellow sweatshirt that clashed.

Hector came to a stop in the middle of the tables, and his hand went to his chest, rubbing and pressing. He didn’t say anything. His lips were drawn tight, jaw clenched. It was Shay’s startled sob that expressed the pain I saw in her father’s eyes. “Mom’s mural!”

As she made to run to it, Hector caught her, drawing her into his side. “Don’t touch it, Shay.”

“The police are on their way as well as my boss,” the man who’d spoken to Axel said.

“And who exactly are you?” Hector demanded, eyes bouncing from me to the oversized security team, to Lincoln, and back to me.

“These men work for a company Lincoln hired,” I explained.

“What the hell is going on, Willow?” Hector’s voice was sharp, pained, and angry.

I swallowed hard. We weren’t sure this was Poco. I needed to believe it was, but there were too many unknowns. My tongue seemed stuck to the roof of my mouth as I batted around the truth, half-truths, and full-on lies. Lincoln came to my rescue,as he had for almost a week now, saying, “Willow has been receiving some threats.”

“Poco! This is that little shit, Poco?” Hector snarled.

“I’m…I’m not sure,” I finally was able to choke out.

“I’ll kill him. I’ll kill him with my own hands.” Hector whirled, heading for the front door. Shay chased after him, catching his arm and tugging at him.

“Dad. Stop. Let the police handle it.”

“He destroyed what she made, Shay. Completely destroyed it!”

“I know. I know. But confronting him, risking yourself… Dad… I can’t lose you too.”

The pain in her voice pricked at all my own thoughts and worries and fears about my mom and losing the only parent you had left. Regardless of who was leaving the notes, the blame for this landed squarely with me.

“I’m so sorry, Hector and Shay. I’m so sorry,” my voice cracked.

Hector looked at me, and the grimness on his face softened. “Poco being an asshole isn’t on you, Willow. You didn’t ask him to do this.”

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