Till Death(21)

He lowered his voice as he looked around. “I just don’t want the past being dragged back up, Miss Keeton. I think you’d appreciate that.”

“You’re doing a fine job at not dragging the past up yourself,” Miranda pointed out with a sarcastic smile. “Just want to throw that out there.”

Mayor Hughes ignored her comment. “Our town suffered greatly with the whole Groom business—”

“The town suffered?” Another weird laugh was bubbling up my throat.

“And it took years to erase the stigma and fear,” he continued. “I don’t want to see us losing ground because of one wrong well-meaning conversation with the wrong person.”

My mouth dropped open. Did he honestly believe that I’d speak to anyone in the press about what happened when I hadn’t given one interview in my entire life?

“I’ll leave you all to your dinner,” Mayor Hughes said, backing away. “Have a nice evening.”

Miranda raised her middle finger when he turned his back but chirped happily, “You too!”

“Jesus,” I muttered, picking up my glass. I downed half the wine in a nanosecond. “That guy’s a dick.”

“He’s normally pretty laid-back, but I think he’s a little overstressed right now,” Jason commented. “Especially after what happened this morning.”

“Jason,” Miranda warned in a low voice.

I frowned as I glanced between them. “What?”

“Nothing.” He cast his gaze to his wine glass.

“What happened this morning?” Sitting forward, I plopped my elbows on the table. “Come on. You have to finish what you’re saying.”

“I don’t know.” Jason arched his brows as he ran his finger down the stem of his glass. “Miranda might smack me.”

“I might smack you anyway,” she shot back with a shake of her head.

“What, Jason?” I persisted, ignoring the familiar teasing tone between them.

Sighing, he looked up at her as she pursed her lips. “She’s going to hear about it anyway,” he said. “You know that.”

“But it doesn’t mean she needs to hear about it right now.” Miranda picked up her glass and downed the contents. Placing the glass on the table, she met my stare. Dread crept down my spine. “Especially after all of that.”

“Actually,” I said slowly, getting more irritated, “I want to hear about it right now.”

“A woman went missing out of Frederick at the beginning of the month,” he explained, repeating what I’d already heard on the radio. “Did you know about that?”

I nodded. “Not a lot but I heard about it.”

“Well, there was an update, and I only heard about it because the boys—the troopers—always get coffee at the Grind. It hasn’t gone public yet. Probably will by tonight or tomorrow, but I told Miranda when she had a lunch break today. I thought you needed to hear it before it hit the news.” Jason’s brown eyes met mine, and the dread increased, unfurling in my stomach like a noxious weed. “They found her . . . her body early this morning.”

“Oh God.” I pressed my hand to my mouth.

“Right now they think it was someone she knew. I mean, that’s what it normally is,” Jason continued, but the wry glint to his eyes warned me there was more.

I stiffened as I lowered my hand to my lap. “What aren’t you telling me?”

“It’s probably just a coincidence,” Miranda said softly.

My heart tripped up. “What?”

“It’s where they found her body, Sasha. It was off of Route 11,” Jason said, and I jerked in my seat. “Back near the old water tower, where the . . . the Groom used to leave the bodies.”





Chapter 7




I’m slow to wake up. It feels like I’ve been asleep for days and it takes time to pry my eyes open. The room is dark, so dark I can’t see anything. Not even an inch in front of my face. My throat feels terrible, like sandpaper, and my head is pounding. Confusion swirls inside me. I’m cold, too cold. There’s a draft rolling over my skin, bare skin. Where am I? I start to sit up, but my arms and legs don’t move.

My heart kicks up as I try again, realizing that something is holding me down—down on a mattress. It hits me then. I remember! Walking to my car. Seeing the van. Hearing the door open—

Panic explodes inside me, clamping down on my chest and throat. I struggle against the bonds. Something metal—the bed frame—rattles. Pain spikes along my wrists and ankles, but I don’t care. I have to get out of here. I have to find a way—

“You’re awake.” A voice carries out from the darkness. “I was beginning to worry.”

I stop breathing as I stare into the nothing that surrounds me. Ears prickle as I hear soft movement. The bed shakes and dips. My eyes widen and my heart beats faster than it ever has.

A hand touches my cheek, and I shriek at the contact, pushing away, but getting nowhere. Oh no. No, no, no.

“Don’t,” he orders. “I don’t want us to fight. It’s the last thing I want.”

Fear digs in deep with its claws, taking hold of me, and only one hoarse word gasps out of me. “Please.”