Page 68 of Holding Grace
“That’s fine with me.”
I’d been in on a couple of Grace’s conversations with Detective Chase. He was good about updating her on anything he learned related to her case.
“I wanted to let you know that we finally got confirmation of your ex’s location. It appears he may have been out of the area for a temporary job but he’s now back at the address you gave us near Morehead. We also obtained a recording of a call between your brother and a man named Jim Stokes. Is that name familiar to you?”
Grace shook her head as she responded. “No, not at all.”
“Alright, we learned from that call that your brother is definitely keeping tabs on you. We haven’t been able to connect him to the attack on you, but he seems to know where you are and in general what’s going on with you. Our best guess is that he has someone physically watching you, though we don’t have confirmation of that. He’s being careful with what he says. He has enough experience to know that all inmate calls are recorded. Like I told you after I questioned him right after the attack, he slips up when he’s agitated or pissed off. He’s got quite a temper.”
“Yes, I know,” Grace murmured, not meeting my eyes, and I wondered again, as I had in the past, what she’d had to endure when she lived with him.
“For now, just keep doing what you’re doing. Keep a low profile and don’t go out alone. He’s still very focused on getting you to do what he wants. He’s not giving specifics of what that is or how he plans to do that, but he will, and then we’ll have him. It’s just a matter of time.”
Grace exhaled slowly. “I know. I will.”
She sounded tired and a little dejected. I knew the detective was likely doing all he could, but it ate at me that I couldn’t fix this for her. I’d thought of one thing that might help, but it was a little out there.
“If you think of anything or see anything that seems even slightly off, call me, no matter what time it is. I’ll be in touch again when I have something to share.”
Grace disconnected and slowly put her phone back in her bag. Her eyes, when they met mine, had lost most of the happy anticipation of earlier.
“If you want to stay in, I’m happy to make something. Or we can order in.”
“No,” she shook her head immediately, reaching out her hand to brush her fingertips across my forearm briefly before dropping it back to her side. “Let’s go ahead and go. I don’t want to let Ellis ruin anything else for me.”
I needed to touch her like I needed to breathe.
I held my hand out to her and after a half second of hesitation, she put her hand in mine. I laced our fingers together and held her hand as we went down the stairs and out to my SUV, then again as we walked into the restaurant. It wasn’t everything I wanted – far from it – but it calmed the frustration and anger swirling inside me enough for me to give Grace the relaxed, worry-free evening she deserved.
After we’d placed our orders, I held my drink up for a toast, looking at Grace expectantly until, with a small curve of her lips, she followed suit.
“To sling-free living.”
The curve of her lips became a full, genuine smile. “To sling-free living. Long may it continue.”
“Hear, hear.”
We tapped our plastic glasses, and each took a sip of our respective drinks.
“Thanks for this, Michael. I really appreciate it.”
“Don’t thank me yet.” I looked around at the bare bones interior of the restaurant. “I’ve heard good things about this place, but the food might suck.”
“I doubt it.” She gave me another of her soft smiles. “If it does, I chose it. And anyway, it doesn’t matter. I’m just glad for the chance to celebrate something happy.”
“You deserve it,” I agreed.
“I just wish...” Grace stopped and shook her head. “I know as well as anyone that wishing doesn’t make something so.”
“What do you wish?”
“That Ellis would leave me alone?” She phrased it as a question, but I knew she meant it. “That he’d develop amnesia and forget I exist? Or maybe grow a conscience and some character and decide that he’s not, in fact, entitled to something that’s not his just because he wants it? Don’t worry. I know pigs will be zipping around the skies and there will be ice skating in hell long before any of those things happen.”
“I’m afraid I can’t argue with you there.”
“There has to be some way to get through to him that I’m not going to do what he wants. I just don’t know what it is.”
My heart rate kicked up at her words. She’d unknowingly given me an opening, a chance to talk to her about the idea I’d had.