Brightening, Naomi replied, “Perfect. Next time you see him, you can tell him you’ve changed your mind.”
“Have I?”
“You tell me.”
The tingling in her stomach said she had. The tingling in her heart warned her that Jonathon Dawson might be someone she could fall in love with. Maybe she was ready to take that step, as terrifying as it may be. “I changed my mind.”
“I’m happy for you, Clara. I really am. I hope it works out.” Naomi stood. “I’m going to go grab a quick shower, and I’m going to have to wear something of yours—I’m all out of clean clothes. I’ll have to go by my place sometime today to pack a few things. I’m staying here with you until this whole Doll Killer thing is resolved. When I’m done, you can tell me your plans for convincing the cops Tommy isn’t a killer.
Clara hadn’t missed the hint of sadness in her sister’s voice. She hoped someday soon everything worked out for Naomi, too.
* * * * *
9:34 A.M.
“Wow, nice apartment building,” Allina said appreciatively. She’d thought the townhouse where she and her husband lived was nice, but this place was like a luxury hotel.
“Sure is.” Jonathon was staring in awe at the large apartment complex.
It was a magnificent place. Forty stories high, gleaming white in the winter sunshine. There was a gorgeous pool and spa area, a gym, a coffee shop, and a fancy restaurant.
“Come on, Ali.”
Surprised, she turned to her partner. “Ali?” He hadn’t called her by that nickname in the year they'd been partners.
His light-brown eyes crinkled in concern, as though he’d offended her. “Sorry, I heard your husband call you that the other day. I thought since we work together you wouldn’t mind, but if I’ve offended you…”
Allina felt bad. She must have been hard to work with the last year if Jonathon was afraid he’d upset her over something as trivial as a nickname. She hadn’t meant to be distant with him. She liked Jonathon. He was smart, thoughtful, good with victims, good with suspects, and a perfect shot; everything she wanted and needed in a partner. But her family life was stressful, and sometimes it leaked over into her work life.
He gave a small disappointed sigh. “Let’s go, Allina,” Jonathon amended.
She stopped him with a hand on his arm. “Ali is fine. I'm sorry, I haven’t been hard to get close to on purpose. I just have a lot going on.”
“I’d like us to be friends.” Jonathon cast her a cautious glance as they entered the lobby. “If you need help with something, I want you to be comfortable with me to just ask—we are partners, after all.”
Allina gave a sigh of her own. She hated thinking about it, and yet it consumed most of her waking thoughts, most of her sleeping ones too. Maybe Jonathon should know. They were partners, and it was hardly a secret—everyone knew about it. “I’m surprised you haven’t heard. Maybe because you weren’t around when it happened. It’s been three years now. Which is totally shocking. It doesn’t feel like it. And yet at the same time, it feels like it’s been ten times that long . . .”
Jonathon stopped walking and stood in front of her so that she had to stop too. “You're rambling, Ali; just tell me.”
He was right; she was rambling. It shouldn’t be so hard to just say the words. She and her husband talked about it every day. Other than work, talk about it was pretty much all her family did.
“You're scaring me, Ali. Just say it; it can't be that bad.”
Unfortunately, he was right; it wasn'tthat bad—it was way worse. Forcing the words out, she said, “Three years ago my sister-in-law was taken from her home. There was a broken window and blood on the floor in her kitchen. That was it. She hasn’t been seen again. There was no ransom, and her body was never found—she just disappeared. She was more like my sister than my sister-in-law. Our parents were best friends; we grew up next door to each other. She’s twenty-four, fifteen years younger than my sister and I, and her brothers. We basically helped raise her.” Allina could feel tears brimming in her eyes. “I don’t know what’s worse—believing she’s dead or believing she’s still alive.”
Her partner clucked sympathetically. “I guess I was wrong; itisthat bad. I’m so sorry. Is there anything I can do to help? Do you have any leads?”
While Allina and her family prayed every day that Grace was still alive and would somehow come back to them, they also knew that if she was still alive, then she was suffering. They’d all lost sleep knowing just how she was most likely suffering. And being cops meant they knew more details about what Grace was probably experiencing than any of them wanted to. Her husband was a cop, and so was her sister; her brother-in-law was a forensic psychiatrist who regularly consulted with the police, and her brother was in the military—they worked Grace’s case every spare second they had. “Thanks, Jon. No, there were never any leads. She was just gone. I hate knowing that if she’s alive, whoever has her is hurting her.”
“You don’t know that, Ali.”
She shook off his attempts to console her. They both knew she was right. “He’s hurting her. Raping her at least, maybe physically assaulting her, too.” That knowledge haunted her daily, hovering in the background, tormenting her, like an oversized mosquito bite.
“Anything I can do, Ali, don’t hesitate to ask. I mean it.” His hand on her shoulder squeezed reassuringly.
“Thanks, Jon, I know you do. Maybe a fresh pair of eyes going through her case file would help.” Allina wondered why she hadn’t opened up to her partner before now.
“We can swing by your place at the end of the day, and I’ll pick up the files.”