Page 25 of Holiday Grief

For someone who never used to get any calls or texts from anyone who wasn’t associated with her business, her phone had been blowing up these last few weeks. Every single person in her family, her mom and all six of her brothers and sisters, had been reaching out to her constantly. Nothing major just saying hi, telling some funny anecdote of something that had happened to them, or sending a joke. Her mom had been sending some inspirational messages people always shared on social media.

Whatever Jett had said to them on Thanksgiving had made a difference. It was like they were trying to show her that she was still part of them.

She didn't feel part of them anymore, it had been so long since she had left. Back then she’d been a sixteen-year-old kid, naïve, with no idea how the world worked, and no idea what lay beyond the relative safety of her home.

Now she knew.

Been irrevocably changed by that evil.

Which brought her to Adam and Claire. They kept reaching out to her, too. They’d left her a message earlier telling her that they loved her.

Loved her.

It was so shocking to her, but it also made her think.

She had to get help.

Without it, she was leaving herself willingly floundering lost in the middle of the ocean. That wasn’t where she wanted to spend the rest of her life. She wanted to feel safe again, get her feet back on solid ground, and wanted to belong. She was so tired of being alone.

Holding her phone tightly in her hand as though it possessed the power to save her, Jasmine climbed out of her SUV and headed for her front door. Kisses and cuddles with her girl were what she needed right now, then she’d finish out her work for the day and tomorrow … tomorrow maybe she’d look up some local counselors and get herself the help she needed.

Jasmine knew as soon as she opened the front door that something was wrong.

It was too quiet.

Odd because her dog wasn’t a barker so it was always quiet when she got home, but this quiet felt different.

It felt empty.

Her house was never empty when she got home because Fauna was always there. Sometimes she gave a little whimper for a welcome, but her presence was always there.

Today it wasn’t.

The lights were on because they were always on. She had them set to a timer so they came on as soon as it got dark, and she saw something lying on the floor in the middle of the hall.

Don’t go to it.

Leave.

Something’s wrong.

Her internal voice gave her sensible instructions, and yet she walked toward what looked like a picture anyway. Maybe it was the drawing Claire had been talking about in the voicemail.

When she reached it, she stooped down and picked it up.

Immediately, she realized her mistake in not running as soon as she grasped something was wrong.

The picture was hers. It was a sonogram of her baby from the day she found out she was pregnant. It was all she had left of her daughter. She kept it tucked away in a small box in the nightstand beside her bed.

Someone had been in her home.

Gone through her things.

Left it here for her to find.

There was only one person who it could be.

Bobby Johnson.

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