Page 46 of Grimm

Grimm covered her hand on the door handle. “Stay back for a moment,” he said.

Dezi wasn’t capable of holding back or being patient. Her anxiety level had reached a left

Where had she put the letter?

The night before, she and Grimm had been so set on getting naked that she hadn’t taken the time to empty her pockets. The letter had to be in the back pocket of her jeans. Probably still lying on the bathroom floor where she and Grimm had started down the path of making hot, sweaty love.

Her cheeks and that place low in her belly warmed at the memory of showering together and then making love in her bed, not once but twice, before he fell into an exhausted sleep.

She unlocked the door, stepped into the room and came to an abrupt halt.

“Let me look around,” Grimm said.

“I can already tell something doesn’t feel right here.” She sniffed the air. Even the air smells different.” Dezi ran for the bathroom, scooped up her denim jeans and jammed her fingers into the back pocket.

Empty.

She dug into the other pocket. It, too, was empty. Turning the jeans over in her hands, she searched the front pocket, hoping she’d moved the letter and just didn’t remember doing it.

All four pockets were empty. She dropped the jeans on the floor and searched through the other discarded clothes and towels.

Grimm stepped into the doorway. “Find it?”

She looked at him, her eyes wide. “No.” Brushing past him, she searched her entire room, even looking under the pillows and blankets. “It’s not here.”

“Could you have taken it into my room this morning?”

She shook her head. “I don’t think so.”

“Let’s look.” He led the way, unlocked his door and helped her search his room.

Dezi stopped in the middle, pressing her palms to her heated cheeks. “It’s not here.”

“When was the last time you remember looking at it?”

She closed her eyes, thinking back over the past twenty-four hours. “I don’t know. Maybe I looked at it when we were in the truck outside the train station?”

“Let’s go look in the truck. Maybe you dropped it down between the seats.” The man, with the patience of a saint, walked with her out to his truck and searched every inch, crevice and corner.

Dezi stood on the ground beside Grimm’s truck, her eyes filling with tears. “That letter had the clues. More than that, the letter was handwritten by my last living relative.”

Grimm gathered Dezi in his arms and held her close as her shoulders shook with her silent sobs. He stroked her hair and whispered soft words of encouragement into her hair.

“I lost it,” she cried. “How are we going to find the rest of the clues?”

“Sweetheart, I’ve got you covered.”

Her brow furrowed. “How?”

He pulled his cell phone out of his front pocket and brought up his store of images, selecting one from the previous day.

Grimm held out the cell phone to Dezi. On the screen was a complete photograph of the letter.

Tears filled Dezi’s eyes. She walked into Grimm’s open arms and pulled him close. “I’m so glad you’re the one with me.”

“I’m sorry we haven’t found the letter,” he said, stroking her hair.

She looked up at him through the tears. “Do you think someone stole it?”’

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