What Rose Above

Ten

Christian hadn't settled down until the next hour had passed. I picked at the smooth fabric from his couch, avoiding his eyes. His cheeseburger sat half-eaten to the side of his coffee table, and his hands explored the contents of the box again, as though something new would appear.

"Opened 1965. . . Closed 2001," he repeated what I'd told him.

"Have you ever heard of this place?" I asked.

"Lake Bellinor's Group Home for Teens," Christian repeated the name yet again, then shook his head. "Nah, I don't think so. It's not really ringing any bells." He sighed.

"I could ask Mr. Jefferson or Mrs. Carol about the group home. They've lived here for most, if not all, of their lives. They might know something about it," I said, shrugging.

"Hmm no"—Christian sucked his teeth and removed his hands from the box—"we'll ask them. I'm coming with you. Tomorrow. We'll head over there early in the afternoon."

My eyebrows shot up. "Early in the afternoon?"

"Yeah, I want you to stay the night."

I frowned. "But I didn't bring an extra change of clothes."

"I'm pretty sure you can fit into my clothes by now, Tyler," he retorted, rolling his eyes.

I nodded, biting my lip. "And what are you going to do with that?" With a nudge of my chin, I gestured to the package he was closing back into place. His fingers danced along the edge of the box in a slow rhythm, his eyes lifting to meet mine.

"I'm taking this back to the station with me as evidence." Him emphasizing the word evidence and using it to describe the package, made this all the more real. Such a description meant Christian wasn't the only one who was going to get involved. I'd never been deep in the middle of an investigation like this—always the outsider looking in. This time, I was the target. Conflicted wouldn't even begin to describe how I felt.

Oh boy, just wait until your mother finds out, my thoughts were taunting me. That wasn't a road I wanted to cross yet. I could only imagine her reaction. First, I nearly gave her a heart attack with my runaway scare. Attracting a stalker was definitely going to take the cake. Hell, this time she might actually have a heart attack. She was never going to let me leave the house again. I could practically feel her hovering already. I never wanted to send her to an early grave.

"You know . . . when I was looking up the group home, I came across some interesting stuff."

"Interesting stuff?" Christian stopped tapping his fingers and scrunched his nose. I imagined all kinds of images playing out in his head as his mind traveled deep in thought.

"Yeah," I confirmed. "There are a lot of blogs about the group home. All of them speculated about why it might've closed down but there was no real concrete evidence on what happened. So, I was thinking . . . maybe your suspect and the victims grew up in the group home."

"You just had to speak the thought I was afraid of," Christian said, a dry chuckle slipping through his lips. I let out a sheepish chuckle of my own. Christian sighed again for what felt like the thousandth time tonight. "This does seem personal," he added.

"Doesn't it?" I blurted and snapped my fingers. "It's almost like this person targeted them because they had some sort of vendetta against them for whatever reason. Oh right. Speaking of the three victims, did you ever find anything else on Fiona Davis?"

Christian snorted. "Nothing helpful."

"What about the other two?"

He smoothed the non-existent stubble along his chin with two fingers, and wagged his index finger on his other hand. "Actually, that's right. I never told you. Reggie Johnson and Kane Reynolds are our other two victims. Neither of them were residing in Lake Bellinor as well."