Page 103 of A Secret to Die For

SARA

Phase two of the search felt like a military operation. Thankfully, Luca was a former Army Ranger, and he’d taken over the organising, so I was free to drink copious amounts of coffee while quietly freaking out. I hadn’t told the others every detail of my conversation with Parker as some parts were family business—or rather, non-family business as it had turned out—but I’d divulged his theory about Mom’s words.

We had a time slot from two until four this afternoon, and I just hoped it would be long enough. Luca was coming, and Colt, plus they’d roped in Deck, who’d promised to bring the necessary tools for dismantling a floor. Blue would be there too—she was practically champing at the bit—and Everly had offered to cover the afternoon for Brooke at the Craft Cabin so she could join us. Plus we had Aaron, who advised that there could be no legal ramifications for attempting DIY in a house I part-owned as long as we put everything back in its rightful place afterward.

Last night, I’d lain awake wondering whether Mom might have said “door” instead of “floor.” Those final moments had been so rushed, so terrifying, that I could easily have misheard. I only hoped I’d remembered the rest right.

“Channelling Goya today?” Darla asked, setting a coffee beside me. The mug was one of Paulo’s and decorated with a rainbow entirely too cheerful for my mood. I’d picked up a paintbrush to keep my hands from tearing my hair out, but now the monster stared back at me from the paper. A ghoul with pale eyes.

“I don’t need to channel anyone when it comes to painting darkness.”

“I think I’d better bring you a donut, hun.”

“Oh, I’m really not—”

Never mind. She was already heading out the door to the bakery.

I was about to wad up my work and toss it in the trash when the front door opened with a cheerful jingle. Over the past year, I’d spent enough time at the Craft Cabin to know the newcomer didn’t quite fit in. I’d never seen her in town before, and tourists tended to arrive in twos and threes, relaxed and chatting as they browsed the shelves. This polished, beautiful blonde looked around the store, but she didn’t seem interested in the craft materials.

“Can I help, ma’am?” Brooke asked.

She shook her head, and then her gaze settled on me. Uh-oh. A moment later, she slid into the empty seat beside mine.

A week ago, my first thought wouldn’t have been Do assassins wear four-inch heels? but boy, had things changed. Surely Jack Morrow would have stopped her if she was dangerous? Which meant she was probably a reporter.

“No comment.”

“Huh?” Her frown relaxed, and she offered a hesitant smile. “Oh, I’m not with the media.”

“Then who are you?”

“My name is Gracelynn Dorsey. Gracie.”

No way. “Seriously? He sent his sister to do his dirty work?”

“Garrett knows I’m here, but he didn’t ask me to come. Believe me, I’m as annoyed with him as you are.” She studied my painting for a moment, then tapped the monster with one manicured fingernail. “That’s him, isn’t it? Harless?”

“Is there anyone Garrett didn’t tell about my private business? Literally anyone at all?”

“He didn’t need to tell me. I see Seth in my own nightmares. Can we talk? I really need to speak with you.”

Her voice turned my blood to ice, not so much the words but the tone. And her eyes… They were haunted.

I found myself both morbidly curious and nodding. “Okay. Okay, we can talk.”

Gracie perched on the edge of the couch in the break room, twisting her hands. She didn’t want coffee. She didn’t want a cookie. It was clear she didn’t want to be there, period, and yet she’d come.

“I hadn’t told this story to a soul until Garrett flew to New York the day before yesterday. And I never intended to, but then I found out what they’d done to you, and I couldn’t stay silent any longer. For so long, I thought it was just me.”

Cold dread pooled in my stomach. “Seth Harless did something to you as well?”

“He helped.”

If ever I’d doubted my capacity for tears, I found out the truth that day. My ability to sob was limitless. Gracie told her story from the beginning, starting with the carefree young woman she’d once been and ending up with a daughter she couldn’t bear to touch. Seth Harless had guarded the door while his boss raped her, and the senator’s lapdog couldn’t plead ignorance because he’d cleaned her up with a washcloth afterward. And that sweet child, that sweet, beautiful child whom Garrett and I had taken to Fall Creek Falls, was the product of an act every bit as heinous as the one I’d experienced. Gracie and I held each other and wept. Harless and Mandell had ruined both of our lives, and who knew how many other women they’d hurt along the way?

“I’m so sorry,” I whispered.

“Garrett won’t give up. Now it’s not only you that he’s fighting for, it’s me as well.”

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