The American Soldier Collection 3: Amazing Grace (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) by Dixie Lynn Dwyer Read Free Book Online Page B

because the guys had the air-conditioning on sixty-six degrees. It was like walking into a refrigerator.
    She took a seat between John and Charlie then began to open the envelope.
    She reached inside and found two other envelopes.
    The first one showed pictures of a young woman with long brown hair standing in front of the coffee hut down by the marina. Grace recognized it immediately.
    “I don’t know who this is,” Grace said as she handed the picture to her brother and the others looked at it.
    “Where did you get the envelope?” John asked, still tired from his late night as he rubbed the sand out of his eyes and took another rejuvenating sip of hot caffeine
    Grace then opened the other envelope.
    She let in a large gasp of air and took a step back. When she saw the contents of the envelope, she dropped everything.
    The guys looked. The picture that fell on the floor was that of the once-stunning brunette, now beaten and murdered.
    The killer had enclosed a lock of her hair, which was covered in blood as well.
    Grace had touched it.
    She never even looked at the note that came along with it.
    Time stood still in Grace’s mind. She was speechless and unaware of the chaos that went on around her in the kitchen.
    It felt more like minutes that the police were at the house and detectives arrived.
    Grace couldn’t speak. She couldn’t breathe. She wasn’t even sure this was happening as her brother and Charlie kneeled down on the floor near her chair and tried to comfort her.
    John was so angry. He never even thought to open the envelope first. This was serious and his sister was in grave danger.
    “It’s all right, Grace, everything is going to be okay.” John squeezed her shoulders and became angrier and angrier as he looked at the way she stared at her fingers. She held the locks of a dead woman’s hair in her hands.
    “She’s dead, John. Oh my God, that poor, beautiful, young woman is dead and she was right down the street. He knows I’m here. Whoever this is found me.”
    The detectives arrived, packaged the evidence preparing to deliver it all to the crime lab. Grace went upstairs to the bathroom to try and remove the sensation of touching the hair from her hands. It was disgusting.
    She closed the door, and the instant she was alone, she began crying.
    She was scrubbing her hands so hard. She thought it was still on her hands as she kept scrubbing and scrubbing, shaking her head in disbelief.
    She closed her eyes and saw the pictures first of the pretty brunette, then of her beaten, and murdered.
    In her mind she saw images of Clara’s body in the woods and the dirty fingers with pink nail polish on them, one horrible vision after the next.
    The killer was still out there and now he was taunting her. Grace wondered why he wanted to cause her so much pain. She cried for the woman in the picture. She cried for her sister. How would she get through this? No one would be safe around her. She needed to go away. She thought to herself as she dried her hands then covered her face with them. She wiped the tears away, wanting to stay strong, but her whole body practically shook in defeat.
    Suddenly the bathroom door opened and she jumped. She was edgy and so scared as she reached back behind her, bracing the cold, white, porcelain sink.
    Sandman appeared in the doorway and she instantly turned, trying to hide her face, her tears, and the fear she had as she held her hands in place, trying not to fall to her knees.
     
    * * * *
     
    Sandman closed the door. He knew Grace was trying to stay strong but she was pale and shaking as he made his way swiftly toward her, turning her around, and pulling her into his arms. She held back the tears, not wanting to need anyone or show her fears and emotions
    He hugged her, holding her tightly, rubbing her head and her hair.
    He could feel her shaking, trying not to cry. She was trying so hard to be strong.
    The events of the last week were weighing on her. First receiving the