Jaden (Jaded #3)(72)

Sheila looked right at me and said, “No.”

Chills went down my back. “What do you mean ‘no’?”

“We found Guadalupe’s body, but not Maria. She’s on the run.”

“But.” Corrigan jerked forward. His hand rested on the table, curling into a fist. “Again. What does that mean for us?”

“We have reason to believe that Maria is going to honor Guadalupe’s death with one last act.”

Oh god.

My mouth went dry.

Sheila sighed. “She’s going to try to kill Sheldon.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

And we were back to the very beginning.

Sheila dropped that bomb, and the song from The Sound of Music started playing in my head. Of course. Made total sense. I was going to die one of these days anyway.

Corrigan shoved back his chair and demanded, “What? Where is she?”

Bryce stood too, but slower and he was still holding my hand. Me? I did nothing. I sat and kept quiet because I already knew what was going to happen. As I thought it, Sheila said it, “She’s going to have to go back into protective custody.”

Which I already was, sort of. Kinda. I was hiding anyway.

“No.”

Corrigan agreed with Bryce. “No way.”

“We stay at Denton’s. He lives in a gated community, and he has his own gate. We have security there already. Sheldon’s dad is still there. Have your officers stay there. Put some outside the first gate and some outside Denton’s gate. Hell,” Bryce bit out. “Put a car on the inside, too. She doesn’t leave. She stays where it’s safe.”

“You don’t know where Maria is at all?” That question came from me. I remembered staring her in the eye. I remembered seeing how crazy she was, but she hadn’t been intent on killing me then. No. A sick laugh sounded in my head. She only wanted me to go to prison. She killed my friend to do that. My friend.

I am so sorry, Grace.

Grief like I hadn’t experienced rolled in. I felt it coming, bubbling up to the surface, and I squeezed my eyelids shut. I couldn’t break down, not there, not in front of them. Later. When I was alone, when it was only Grace and me.

I am so sorry, I thought again.

Then I felt a calming touch and I looked up, but no one was there. Sheila was shaking her head. She didn’t agree with Bryce and Corrigan. They didn’t care. They wanted me at Denton’s house. The news of Guadalupe’s death was already pushed aside. They didn’t want another death. They didn’t want my death. I should’ve been outraged or panicked. I should’ve been something, but I was nothing. All I could feel was Grace.

She was there. That calming touch must’ve been her. And it was the dam breaking. Tears for her started sliding down my face. They kept coming; I couldn’t hold them in.

I sat there crying as everyone bickered.

I don’t know how long it went on. I didn’t make a scene. The tears were silent, and I wasn’t wheezing or sniffling. I didn’t even wipe them away. They formed from my eyes and fell down, sliding all the way down to fall off my chin and onto my arm. It was just Grace and me. That’s all I felt in that moment.

She stayed with me, even after some decision had been made, as someone wiped Kleenex over my face, and when I was led out to a back alley. It was quiet. We had gone somewhere tucked away from everyone else. Well, that wasn’t true. Bryce and Corrigan were with me. I could hear the murmur of voices behind us and knew those were cops.

Then a car slid to a halt in front of us. I registered that it was one of Denton’s cars, but he wasn’t in it. “They called him, and he sent a car, but you’re safe, Sheldon.”

Pain stabbed me. It was like she was there and she was the one reassuring me. I swear I heard her voice.

Then we were moving. We were leaving the police station, but they had cars following us. Bryce and Corrigan were talking to me, to each other; I could hear their concern. I didn’t want to talk to them. I just wanted to talk to Grace. I wanted to tell her, “I’m sorry, Grace.” I mouthed the words as I said them to her.

I imagined her sitting next to me and chuckling. “Only you, Sheldon. You’re told you’re in danger and you’re thinking about me. It wasn’t your fault.”

It was. It was all my fault.

“No, Sheldon.” I imagined that her voice would’ve grown stronger. Firmer. “You listen to me. This was not your fault. This was her fault. She killed me. You did not. Not your fault. Her fault. You got that?” Then she would’ve reached over and squeezed my hand.

I looked down, and my hand fell back on my lap. My fingers lifted and I had my palm upward, like Sheila had done before. She was there for us, and I was here for Grace. I could see her hand fitting into mine. After squeezing it, she would’ve patted it again and said, “It’s not your fault, Sheldon. It’s not your fault.”

I kept hearing her voice. She kept repeating those words even after we got to Denton’s and I walked inside. There was a different feel to the house. I saw my dad there, Beth, Mena, Denton. They were all there and all watching, but this was my time with Grace. I didn’t want any interruptions.

Corrigan asked me, his voice muffled for some reason, “Sheldon, do you need help?”

I shook my head. I wasn’t paralyzed or in shock. I was just . . . protective, of Grace and me. Mostly her. If they came in and demanded me to talk to them, then she would go away. I didn’t want her to go away.