Page 15 of Finding Our Reality

My fingers wrap around something plastic. I’ve not had any one-on-one experience with a pregnancy test before. But I know enough to know that the two lines mean one thing.

I look over at Lulu.

I’m a fool. A damn fool.

I’m about to get myself into trouble. So much trouble.

We’re told to never make any promises. Ever. Never make a promise in this line of work.

Yet, here I am. All I want in this world is to make her feel better. So, I’ll promise her the moon and the stars. Why?

Because I shouldn’t. And I always do what I shouldn’t.

Chapter 7

ELLA

He better not say he’s sorry.

I don’t want his sympathy.

I want his fire, his anger, his determination. I want him to help me find my sister. I want to bring this chapter of my life to a close. I want to bury her, give her peace, give her justice.

Justice. I really want justice.

His lips part, and I close my eyes, not able to look at him. Please, please don’t give me empty condolences.

“Let’s catch the fucking bastard.”

My eyes shoot open. I’m transported back to nearly twelve years ago. Ry knows just what I need, and I’m so glad he’s giving it to me. Reading my mind, calming my worry. Feeding me what I need on a plate of defiance and rebellion. Us against the world. He always makes—made—it feel like it’s us against the world.

Reaching across, he wraps his gloved hand around mine. “I promise we’ll catch him. We’ll catch him, Lulu. And I’ll never let him come up for air.”

Relief chokes my throat, making it hard to swallow. I sigh, nodding in agreement. It doesn’t take long for the warmth of his hand to penetrate the latex of his glove. Glancing down, the sight of his fingers brushing against my skin sends a familiar, yet frustrating, tingle through my low belly.

A completelywantedandunwantedtingle.

I yank my hand from his grasp and rub my knuckles to fend off the lingering heat of his touch. He tries to act like I didn’t just hurt his feelings.

Asshat left me.

He doesn’t deserve the courtesy of having me worry about his injured little feelings. Boo freakin’ hoo.

He flips open his own notebook and prepares to make notes. “I agree we should start at the beginning, but we need to talk about these pictures first. And the pregnancy test. Where did you find these?”

“In Carrie’s room, last Thursday. I decided it was finally time to clean out her room. The envelope was taped to the bottom of her jewelry box, hidden underneath a thin piece of pressed wood—she made her own false bottom.”

He lifts his eyebrows in surprise. “And you have never seen the pictures or the pregnancy test before?”

I narrow my eyes. “Ry…”

“I’m just asking. I know the answer, Lulu, but I still have to ask.”

I inhale, trying to center myself. “I know you do. I know the protocol.” I wet my lips. “No. I’ve never seen the pictures, the pregnancy test, or the envelope before. Assuming the pregnancy test is Carrie’s, I had no idea that she was pregnant.”

“Do you have reason to believe that the envelope was hidden underneath the jewelry box this whole time? Since before Carrie went missing?”

“I really do. Marcum, Leary, and some uniforms searched Carrie’s room. But it wasn’t some rushed and messy search warrant toss. At the time, everyone thought there was a real possibility for Carrie to come home so they were gentle with their search. They searched everything—the drawers, the closet, the desk—but they didn’t turn everything upside down, shatter jewelry boxes, nothing like that. Which is the only way I found this. All of her jewelry was still inside. Why would anyone think something was stuck to the bottom? Under a false bottom, at that? Carrie had to take all the jewelry out, stick this to thebottom, glue the false bottom on, and then put all of her jewelry back in. I just don’t see someone else doing that. I feel confident that it was her.”

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