Page 4 of Holiday Grief

A few minutes later they were pulling into the driveway of the property.

Since it was a Thursday evening, no one was there, giving the farm a somewhat eerie feeling.

Because it was a Christmas farm there were decorations up all year round, and the brightly colored tinsel and garlands draped around the trees lining the driveway seemed incongruous with the reason for them being there.

Several buildings made up the property. They were all log cabins, highlighted with red and white shutters and doors. Around the back there was a cute little two-story house that he knew was where Jasmine lived.

Parked outside of it was a dark gray SUV.

It didn't belong to Jasmine Crane.

Exchanging a glance with Jessica, he knew his partner was on the same page as he was. Jasmine’s assailant was still there. If her attacker was still there, how had she been able to get to a phone to call for help?

Weapons in hand, they climbed out of their car and made their way toward the front door.

It was sitting partially open, and as he got closer, Adam saw blood smeared on the doorframe.

Nodding his head at it, Jessica nodded to say she’d seen it too and they stepped inside the quiet house.

The too quiet house.

There wasn’t a sign of life.

Had Jasmine’s assailant got his hands on her after she made the 911 call?

They cleared a living room on their right, and an office on their left. Next, they cleared a dining room, and a large open kitchen with a couch, entertainment stand, and dining table.

With an empty downstairs they moved to the staircase.

As he got further up, he could hear the soft sound of crying.

Jasmine.

Picking up the pace, Adam moved directly toward the sound and crossed the hall, entering the master bedroom.

The scene that met him was not what he had been expecting.

On the bed lay the body of a man. From the amount of blood soaking the covers, Adam already knew he was dead. Jasmine cowered in the corner, tears streaming down her cheeks, blood streaking one side of her head from a nasty-looking gash on her temple.

It didn't take a genius to figure out what had gone on in this room.

The fact that Jasmine’s jeans were unzipped and shoved partway down her legs was just further proof.

When she saw them, panic immediately filled her face, and her gaze locked on their weapons.

“I didn't mean to. I just had to make him stop,” she screeched.

Even from across the room, he could see her press against the wall until her trembling body was plastered against it.

Something shifted inside him as he put his gun away, held his hands up, palms out, and very slowly moved toward her. If she thought she was going to be punished for defending herself she couldn’t be more wrong.

“It’s okay, green eyes,” he soothed, “you did good. You did what you had to do.”

“Y-you didn't come to take me to j-jail?” she stammered.

When he reached her, he lowered himself cautiously down to crouch before her. He wanted to reach out, touch her, offer comfort, but he was afraid that touching her when she’d just been assaulted would shove her over the edge. Instead, he locked his gaze on hers and infused every ounce of confidence into his voice he could. “You did the right thing,” he said firmly.

For a long moment, she studied him and he couldn’t figure out what she was looking for. Then she gave a noisy sob and threw herself into his arms, buried her face against his neck, and clung to him.

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