Page 86 of To the Grave

I refocused on the road and did a mental inventory of the stuff I’d packed: an expensive dress and new lingerie I’d bought with my credit card (okay, my dad paid the bill, but it had my name on it), all my toiletries and hair products, makeup, clothes for tomorrow, my extra charger.

By the time I pulled up outside the bar where I was meeting McSexy, the sky had turned several shades darker. It was only5 p.m. but it was almost completely dark out, and my stomach churned as I parked to wait for McSexy.

What the fuck was wrong with me? Why was I feeling sick, like I shouldn’t be here?

I had a flash of my mom, which was weird because it had stopped being easy to remember her face. I remembered it now though. I could see her clearly: her dark hair falling in soft curls around her face, purple eyes looking at me with love. I remembered that they crinkled in the corners when she laughed, except this time she wasn’t laughing. She was looking at me seriously, almost like she was mad.

I pushed her from my mind. Part of me didn’t want to lose that crystal-clear image I had of her — didn’t want her to go — but the last thing I wanted to think about on the verge of my night with McSexy was my mom.

Gross.

I leaned forward to get a better look at the bar through the gloom of the incoming storm. It was a small place, what would be described as seedy in a book. Just a single building with rotting wood siding, no windows, and a neon sign above a single door.

I had no idea why McSexy wanted to meet here of all places. What a dump.

My phone dinged with another text from Daisy.

I meant what I said. I’m always here if you need me.

I rolled my eyes. Fuck her. Fuck her and fuck Blackwell Falls.

I looked at the sign glowing over the door of the bar:Mo’s.

Then I sat back to wait.

Chapter 58

Jace

The university library was the fanciest fucking library I’d ever seen. Wolf and I had made our way through glass doors and into a sprawling modern building with multiple floors and massive windows.

Checking in with the archival desk was like trying to get into a courtroom for the trial of the century. The older woman in front of us had to store her bag in a locker, and we were given a long list of instructions for handling archived material along with gloves we were supposed to use when handling books and documents.

A greeter called someone to let them know we’d arrived and a few minutes later a young guy — a student probably — in jeans and a collared shirt showed us down to the basement with the woman, who was apparently doing research for a book.

We took two flights of stairs to the basement where several rooms were enclosed in walls of glass.

“You can wait here,” the archive specialist told us. He turned to the woman. “Follow me. I’ll set you up."

She gave us an encouraging smile and followed him into one of the glass rooms.

“I can’t believe this is a library,” I muttered to Wolf.

“No kidding,” Wolf said.

The kid returned a few minutes later. “What is it you’re looking for again?”

“Back issues ofThe Daily Free Press,” Wolf said.

“Years?”

Wolf thought about it. “Say… 2000 to 2006?”

The kid nodded. “Those are digitized. I’ll take you to the computer room.”

“Could we have accessed these online?” I asked. “We looked and didn’t find them.”

The kid shook his head and opened a glass door to one of the enclosed rooms. Beyond the glass I could see two tables, rows of sleek new computers lined up on both of them.

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