Page 1 of Still Her
Prologue
Jack
I stareout the window of the SUV that sits in the parking garage of our hotel. Matt is with me, sitting on the other side of the back seat, keeping to himself. Josh and Chris are waiting in the other vehicle, and once we get the green light, I presume they’ll head back to their respective suites. As for Matt, he’s made no bones about coming with me to the suite the detective has commandeered. It wasn’t even worth me trying to protest. But if the way he handled my lash-out yesterday is anything to go on, it’s probably a good idea to have him there.
I look down at my phone, even though it hasn’t gone off. No text from Morris. I don’t know why I’m looking; it’s not even six o’clock yet. I ball my fist and rest my chin on it, looking silently out the window again, as if there’s anything to actually see besides concrete and other cars. I feel this need to connect with Mayzie, so I look away from the window and pull my left sleeve up, taking in the tattoo of the heart there. I run my hand across the ink before gripping my wrist tightly for a moment.
It’s not until my phone buzzes that I let go. I pick it up to see the message I’ve been waiting for.
Morris:She’s in. Get up here.
Two months earlier
Mayzie
A video chatrequest goes off on my phone, drawing my attention away from the bowls I’m washing in the sink. I walk over to retrieve it from the island countertop in the kitchen, and swipe the screen to accept. I am greeted by a dangerously handsome rock star sporting a sexy smile and shaggy bangs that fall in front of dark blue eyes. His tall and trim body looks delicious in a navy t-shirt and ripped jeans as he leans back against a tour bus with his foot up behind him so that a guitar can lay across his knee as he starts strumming and singing:
“I miss annoying you,
When you’re trying to write
And holding you,
In our bed at night…”
I lean forward on the island, joyfully laughing as I’m serenaded by my husband, Jack Krasinski, lead singer and guitarist for the hit band Turn it Up. On tour now. Check your local ticket office.
“Baby I’ve been waiting too damn long,
So get your cute ass out here where you belong
So I don’t have to sing this cheesy song!”
He finishes with a triumphant smile and one last strum, his right dimple making an appearance. I’m laughing so hard my stomach hurts. On stage, he’s a broody rock star, cranking out adrenalizing notes on his guitar while he sings angsty lyrics about love and more of life’s aspects. But he’s also my loving husband who knows how much I love to laugh…
“Whooo!” I shout into the phone.
“You like that?” he grins, still holding the guitar.
“I looooved that!” I say, dropping my head back to emphasize how much.
“Four more days, baby.”
“Four more days,” I affirm, smiling sweetly.
“I can’t wait. I miss you.” His eyes smile back at me.
“Me neither, I miss you too.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. You miss each other. Can Igonow?” That would be the petulant voice of Chris, the drummer for Turn it Up.
“Oh… yeah.” Jack says, putting his guitar pick in his mouth, and reaching out to take the phone from him. “I’ve only got a couple of minutes sweetheart, and then I have to run to sound check.” His smile turns complacent.
“It’s okay.” I say, smiling and nodding. And then an excited look of realization comes over his face.
“Oh, but really quick, I’ve gotta show you something.”
“Okay.” I say, unable to keep the giddy grin off my face. After three years, he doesn’t fail to give me that schoolgirl feeling when we’re apart. When he so much as calls me, it makes my heart zing around like a pinball, so you can imagine how it makes me feel when he makes romantic gestures like the one he just did.