Page 22 of Lure

Wiping a hand over my face and then up over my hair, I glared at the wall. That left one other question. The man at the safe house? Dumb luck? Or sent there on purpose? I turned that info over as I showered.

Instead of going to bed when I was done, I dressed and headed back downstairs. The house was quiet, security engaged. I didn’t stick my head in to check on Grace. Voodoo had that job.

After brewing a fresh thermos of coffee, I carried it into my office and locked myself in. I wanted some answersbeforethey were up, that meant reaching out to contacts in the Network.

They were going to Iove hearing from me.

Chapter

Eight

GRACE

“Grace! We’re going to be late!” Amorette threw a sock at me. “You look fine.”

“But I want to look better than fine!” It was an old argument, and I was doing it more to yank her chain than anything else.

“I’m sorry,” Am deadpanned.

I paused and twisted to look at her while I tied my hair up into a ponytail with a scrunchy. “For what?”

“You’re stuck looking like me.” Not even a twitch of her lips betrayed her even if merriment danced in her eyes.

A laugh snorted out of me before I could stop it and Am grinned. Still, I couldn’t resist tweaking her just a little. I glanced at the mirror and affected a sigh… “What do you think of a nose job?”

I barely dodged the decorative pillow she grabbed from the chair by the door and flung at me. Laughing, Am shook her head. “Let’s go, brat.”

She pivoted on her heel and strode out of my room. I was still laughing as I grabbed my purse and strung it over my chest before I snagged my backpack. I was only four steps behind her, but Am was already outside.

“Are you trying out for track?” I called as I hurried after her. I rushed through the front door and then stumbled to a halt. This wasn’t…

Turning in a slow circle, I stared at the cemetery. We didn’t come here often and we never came alone. At least, I never did. When I would have shifted my backpack, I couldn’t find the straps.

It was gone.

So was my purse.

My shoes were absent too.

Instead of being dressed for school, I was in simple sundress. The air was warm and the grass was soft beneath my feet. There was a bee buzzing lazily around some fresh flowers that had been delivered to a grave. More than a few of them had similar bouquets. A lot of families made their way out here over the holiday weekend.

We’d come for her birthday and for Mother’s Day. It wasn’t either, so why had I headed out here again? I walked over the hill and then down past where the dogwoods stood to the stone we’d erected for Maman. A smaller one sat to the left of Mom’s—it was the gravestone for Louis. The stone to the right was new. No one should be that close to them…

Dread ballooned in my gut and I flexed my toes against the grass, digging my heels in to stop moving. It failed, though, I kept moving as though someone dragged me toward the graves. I couldn’t turn away, or stop, and when the force finally released me, I landed on my knees.

The third headstone was right there. I could see part of it above where my hands were planted against the earth. I didn’t want to look up. I couldn’t.

No.

But like my feet that wouldn’t obey me before, I couldn’t stop my chin from lifting or my eyes from raising.

Amorette Monet Black.

No. No. No. No.

Beloved daughter and sister.

Agony robbed me of any breath.

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