Page 75 of Falling with Grace

"I'll get right on it." His knee bobbed up and down. "I think this could be it. We might just have a solid in."

"What did Dr. Navarro say about her injuries?"

Javier shrugged. "He gave her the all-clear. Just a mild concussion and a healing broken rib. Nothing more."

Broken rib?

That would explain the discoloration on her side.

A disquieting sensation settled within me, an unfamiliar twinge of concern that I couldn't quite shake. "And where is she now?"

Javier jerked his chin towards the door. "In her room. That's where she's been all day."

"Has anyone checked on her?"

"No." He shook his head. "Eduardo and Antonio haven't moved from her door, though."

I stood, my shoulders heavy with exhaustion. "Next time, you can join Nadia for fabric shopping."

"Pass."

I patted him on the arm as I walked by. "I'll talk to Grace. You assemble a team for the couple."

"In silence?"

"Let's not make waves until we're ready."

Exiting my office, I climbed the stairs, each step resonating in the grand foyer—the air charged with vibrant energy as I approached.

Eduardo's posture shifted, a swift adjustment from his slouched position over his phone. The once-present smile vanished from his lips as I approached, replaced by an air of seriousness. He bugged Antonio's side, whose heavy-lidded eyes fought the pull of exhaustion.

"Such an easy task, yet you sleep like you've worked in the fields."

Antonio snapped to attention with a snort, his hand swiping across his drool-glistened lips. "Lo siento,jefe."

My jaw ticked. "Do you require some time off?" I tucked my hands into my pockets, a smirk forming as Eduardo shook his head in Antonio's direction.

Antonio glanced at Eduardo with wide eyes, then turned to me, a sheen of sweat across his brow. "No... no,Jefe. It won't happen again."

"Hmm." I nodded. "Make sure it doesn't."

I breached Grace's door and stepped through the threshold.

A cool breeze slithered through the opened window. The curtains billowed, dancing to the rhythm of the unseen force. She'd stacked her cream pillows on her bed, the down comforter matching the decor.

I cast a glance around the room, performing a half-spin.

Where is she?

My shoes scuffed against the floor as I strolled toward the window and came to a halt, my eyes catching a white-framed Polaroid on the bedside table.

The black and white photograph, capturing two once-innocent boys standing side by side, set my rigid muscles twitching. A wave of heat surged through me, my chest tight, my pulse thumping in my neck.

Where didshe get this?

I picked up the damning photograph, crushing it in my fist before tucking it into my pocket, and then stormed towards the window. Popping my head out, I glanced down at the ground.

The decorative stones lay undisturbed, showing no signs of someone dropping two stories onto them—no evidence of an impact or a life lost.

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