Page 19 of Counting Quarters

Chapter Nine

Kyle

Idon'tknowwhy I invited Blaire Granger into my home. Or why I offered to cook her a meal. I could blame the weed, but honestly, it was disgustingly dank and nowhere near being strong enough to hinder my rational thoughts from a couple of hits.

Ordinarily, I would have steered clear of her, knowing exactly how annoyingly blunt she could be. But she looked incredibly sad, and I recognized a bit of my own tortured thoughts in her vacant stare, so I decided to take a chance and dance with her demons.

She didn't disappoint.

“I'm used to my grandmother's cooking, so this better be good,” she teased from the stool across the island.

There was something about her that reminded me so much of Asher. Just uninhibited by the world around her and how they believed she should behave. It was what made her such a leper in the town. Yet every time she spoke, I was chasing those little specks of familiarity.

I realized that must be why Storie was so drawn to her, too.

“I'll do my best, but all I can offer is some doctored mac and cheese.”

“Sounds good to me.”

A smile flirted with her lips, begging to be set free, though she was fighting it off. Something had changed about her in the past few months. We all noticed it. I hadn't been committed enough to pinpoint what it was, though.

Blaire sat in silence while I got the supplies together and put the water on the stove to boil. When I was all out of things to busy myself with, I reluctantly turned toward her and was unsurprised to find her openly staring again. She did that a lot. I realized I did, too. That was why I found her so unsettling.

Being fed your own medicine was a bitter, uncomfortable experience.

“I can take you to Fergusons Furniture with my truck and we can get your place furnished.”

For some reason, it had been weighing heavy on my mind that she moved into the loft with only one suitcase. I couldn't believe Tabitha and Callista allowed her to leave her home without at least a mattress. Later that day, I saw her walking back from town with a blow-up mattress, but other than that, she didn’t appear to have even gathered a chair to sit on up there. That explained why she was getting high on the porch, I suppose.

“I can't afford anything new. I spent most of my savings on my deposit,” she admitted bashfully. I felt like an ass.

“Then we can try Secondhand Rose. They usually have furniture there,” I supplied, if only to ease my own guilt.

“Okay, I’ll check that out.”

“I’ll help you bring whatever you want up the stairs,” I offered awkwardly. She only nodded, then looked down at her hands.

“What are you doing about the girls who are still missing from Rayner?”

She asked the question so casually, I thought I might have misheard.

“We’re looking for them.” Sort of.

We’d been distracted with finding out more about Rayner than focusing on his victims. The state’s homicide unit took over their cases when we had to transfer them over from missing persons. Our station simply wasn’t equipped with the tools needed to find them, but we were still expected to keep our eyes and ears out for any suspicious behavior.

“Doesn’t seem like it.”

She swung her wild red hair over her shoulder, and I watched her wrap it around those long, slender fingers to form her signature braid.

“What makes you say that?”

“Because they’re somewhere close, yet they still haven’t been found.”

My trained instincts began kicking in, pushing away the small buzz I had from the weed. In the blink of an eye, I was stone sober, staring down at the girl before me like a murder suspect.

“Somewhere close?” I repeated.

Blaire just nodded, her doe-eyes wide with confidence.

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