Authors: Karin Salvalaggio
“What time is it, anyway?”
Pamela shakes her wrist so her watch sits right. “Nearly three. If you don’t mind me saying so, you don’t seem right.”
“I think Lexxie may have slipped me a mickey.”
“I imagine she’s pretty angry with you.”
“This might be a deal-breaker.”
“Rumor is you’re planning on marrying her.”
“My mother’s been talking too much. How she manages to spread gossip all the way from Wilmington Creek is beyond me.”
“So it’s true.”
“Lexxie is getting impatient and I’m not getting any younger.”
Pamela jostles him a bit more to keep him awake. “This place is depressing. You should get out of here. I can give you a ride.”
“Can’t quite face the mess.”
It takes Pamela a few seconds to realize what he’s talking about. “Shoot, I didn’t think of that.” She picks up her phone and starts to scroll through her address list. “I’ve been calling in favors all over town. One more isn’t going to hurt.”
“There are already enough people who know Hayley was at my place. Let’s not add to the list.”
“Are you sure?”
“This is my mess. It’s up to me to clean it up.” He sits up and rubs his face. “I’m going to have to work this evening. I need a shower and a cup of coffee.”
“You really should go visit Hayley. She’d like to see you.”
“I can’t risk it. Brian might be there.”
“You’ll be fine. Brian said he won’t be back until morning.”
“I thought you said you hadn’t spoken to him.”
Pamela hesitates. “He left a message.”
9
GRACE called, GRACE cried, GRACE shattered my deafness, GRACE sparkled, GRACE blazed, GRACE drove away my blindness, GRACE shed Her fragrance, and I drew in my breath, and I pant for GRACE. GRACE brought Thee down from heaven; GRACE stripped Thee of Thy glory; GRACE made Thee poor and despicable; GRACE made Thee bear such burdens of sin. Nothing whatever pertaining to godliness and real holiness can be accomplished without GRACE. One who loves a pure heart and who speaks with GRACE will have the king for a friend. It is by GRACE you have been saved. For sin shall no longer be your master, because you are not under the law, but under GRACE.
The words covering the wall above Grace’s bed are written with a thick black marker and stand three inches high. The animal posters that once hung there have been ripped into pieces. They’re scattered on the floor, crackling underfoot. Macy spots the torn chestnut mane of a once coveted mare, its silky brown eyes no more. She steps forward in shoes sheathed in protective covers and starts reading to herself.
A few feet away Warren clears his throat. “According to the brains down in Helena, most of the words have been lifted from the writings of Saint Augustine and John Bunyan. They’ve promised to send us the full text in the morning.”
Macy doesn’t turn to face him when she speaks. “Did you find the pen he used?”
“Yes, but no prints. He must have been wearing gloves. We’re pretty sure he used a pen he found here. Grace’s desk is filled with art supplies. There’s a black marker missing from a set.”
“And aside from the office downstairs, this was the only room that was disturbed?”
“That’s what we’re thinking, but we’ll know for certain after Grace and her aunt have a look.” With his gloved hands he picks through a stack of sketchbooks on the desk. “Are you sure it’s such a good idea bringing them up here?”
Macy gazes out a window that overlooks the backyard. The wooded hillside is lit up with portable lights. She has told them to search the whole area again. A half-dozen police officers fan out through the trees in a single line.
“I need Grace to make sense of what’s been written on this wall. Given her name is written sixteen times, I’m guessing it’s personal.”
Warren checks his phone. “They should be here any minute. I’ll go downstairs to meet them.”
“Elizabeth is pretty angry.”
“That’s an understatement. She didn’t want us in her house and now it’s a crime scene.”
“I don’t want her up here. I think Grace will be less inhibited on her own.”
“I’ll get Elizabeth started downstairs. She’s gonna have a fit when she sees the mess in the office.” Warren tilts his head toward the wall. “I wasn’t expecting to find something like this.”
“Neither was I.”
“It makes me wonder if Grace was the intended target all along.”
“The fact that Leanne is stabbed to death her first day back in Collier in eleven years is too much of a coincidence to ignore. What happened out in the woods was definitely about Leanne.” She points to the wall. “This, however, is about Grace.”
“So he wants to kill her too?”
“Perhaps, but this looks more like something a stalker would do.”
“Well, I’ll leave you to it then.” Warren turns to go but stops. “By the way, you should have a look at Grace’s sketchbooks. It’s not just drawings. There’s a lot of writing. Poetry, stuff like that.”
“Thanks, Warren, I’ll go through them when I get a chance.”
Macy climbs up onto the bed and stands with her arms stretched high. The first two lines of text are well out of reach of her fingertips. The bed is made of solid oak and there are no drag marks in the carpet, which would indicate it was recently moved. The killer would have had to stand on the bed. She steps away and inspects the writing carefully. The lines are almost perfectly straight and the curves consistently uniform. It doesn’t look like any handwriting she’s ever seen before. He took his time. There are no spelling mistakes. The grammar is perfect. Reading Grace’s name comes too easily; GRACE strikes Macy in the eyes over and over again. The wall demands her attention. GRACE, it hisses. He wrote her name sixteen times. GRACE.
Aside from the window and desk, there’s a closet, two large bookcases, a chest of drawers, and a full-length mirror framed with delicate fairy lights. Macy runs her eyes over the books, stuffed animals, and dolls and is struck by everything that is missing. There is no laptop, television, or phone. The only hint that Grace might be a teenager is a modest stash of CDs and a small radio. There’s only one photo sitting on the chest of drawers. Macy picks it up. Elizabeth, Arnold, and Grace stand in front of Mount Rushmore. Grace must have been around ten years old. She squints into the camera.
Macy pulls open drawers one by one. The contents are carefully folded. Grace’s undergarments are the only things that appear to have been disturbed. Macy reaches into her coat pocket and pulls out an evidence bag before plucking a silver strand of hair from where it is caught on the clasp of a bra. She holds it up to the light. It’s a couple of inches long so it could belong to Elizabeth. She puts it into the bag and rummages around but she can’t find anything else of interest. She closes the drawer and shifts her attention to a tube of lipstick sitting next to the framed photo.
She pulls off the cap. The color is blood red, and it’s hardly been used. There’s a plastic bag from Collier Drug Store. Along with more cosmetics there’s a bottle of hand lotion and a box of tampons inside. Macy unfolds the receipt. None of the cosmetics are listed and the date indicates it’s a recent purchase. She pictures Grace walking along the aisles filling her pockets with blusher and mascara while her aunt stands in line at the pharmacy filling Grace’s prescription for immunosuppressants.
Warren knocks on the half-open door and Macy steps out into the hallway. Grace doesn’t look well. Her skin has a yellowish tint, and she casts her eyes about nervously. She’s propped up between Warren and Jared, but leans more heavily on Jared. Jared sways on his feet, and they almost topple like bowling pins. Macy takes Grace firmly by the elbow and guides her into the bedroom.
“This isn’t going to be easy, Grace, but I need your help.” She looks the young woman in the eye. “Are you sure you’re feeling up to this?”
Grace’s chin bobs up and down silently.
“You just say the word and I’ll get you out of here.”
Grace catches sight of the writing over Macy’s shoulder and hesitates. “My mother’s killer did that?”
“We think he broke in last night.”
Grace can’t take her eyes off the wall. Her mouth moves with the words but she makes no sound. Halfway through she starts to tremble. By the time she’s finished she’s crying.
Macy continues to hold Grace’s arm. “Grace, does this mean anything to you?”
Instead of answering, Grace slips from Macy’s grip, collapsing into a heap on the floor.
Jared kneels down next to her. “Warren, could you go get Carson?”
Macy catches Warren’s eye. “Elizabeth doesn’t need to know about this.”
Jared elevates Grace’s legs and takes her pulse.
“Is she going to be okay?”
“I think so.” He looks up at the wall and Macy can see his eyes trace across the lines. “Why did you bring her here? Couldn’t you have just shown her a photograph?”
“Jared, please don’t tell me how to do my job.”
Carson follows Warren into the room.
“What have we got here?”
“I’m pretty sure she fainted.” Jared pats Grace on the cheeks and calls her name several times.
Carson sets his bag down on the floor. “Did she hit her head on anything?”
“Not that I saw.”
Grace opens her eyes and blinks a few times.
Jared almost smiles. “Hey, Grace. You okay?”
She stares up at him. “What happened?”
“You’re not well. We need to get you back to the hospital.”
Grace’s voice comes out in short bursts. “I don’t want to go back. I’m here now. I want to help.”
Jared looks up at Macy. “What do you think?”
“I think I’m not going to tell you how to do your job.”
Grace waves Jared’s hands away and tries to sit up. “It was just a shock, that’s all. I’ll be fine now.”
“You need to take it very slowly. Can you do that for me?” He eases her forward and she sits cross-legged on the floor. “Wait like this for a few minutes. I don’t want you to pass out again.”
Grace shifts her position so she’s facing the window. Her eyes sweep across the area under the desk. “Did he take anything?”
Macy follows her gaze. There is nothing on the floor. “As far as we know all he’s done is leave you a message on the wall. Does it mean anything to you?”
Grace doesn’t look up at the writing. “No, I’ve never seen anything like that before.”
Warren steps into the center of the room and points up at the wall. “Grace, are you familiar with Saint Augustine and John Bunyan?”
“No, sir.”
He purses his lips. “John Bunyan wrote
Pilgrim’s Progress
. Your aunt was reading it the other day.”
Taking hold of Jared’s outstretched hand, she rises to her feet. “I didn’t notice.”
Macy’s words come out sharper than intended. “Grace, I need you to start paying attention now. I want you to have another look at what he’s written on the wall and then tell me whether you’ve seen it before.”
Grace bows her head. “Yes, ma’am.”
Macy glances over at Jared and Carson. “Do you mind waiting out on the landing? It’s kind of crowded in here.”
Grace won’t let go of Jared’s arm.
“It will be okay. Jared will be right outside and Warren and I are here with you. You’re in safe hands.”
Grace holds on to the back of the desk chair and looks up at the wall again. She sways as she reads. Macy keeps her eyes on Grace the entire time.
“I’m sorry. It means nothing to me.” Grace turns away and picks up the first sketchbook in the stack. She glances at it for a second and then places it facedown on the desk.
Macy comes over and stands next to her. “Are you absolutely sure, Grace?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Macy picks up one of the sketchbooks and flips through it. Drawings and little notes fill the pages. “You’re very talented.”
“Thank you.”
Macy watches Grace flip through the stack three times, her movements growing more rushed with each pass.
“Is something missing?”
“No,” says Grace quietly. “They’re all here.”
“I want you to go through the room and tell me if anything is out of place.” She gestures toward the chest of drawers. “Why don’t we start here?”
Macy picks up the tube of lipstick and holds it out in front of Grace. “Is this yours?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“You bought it?”
Grace hesitates. “A while back.”
Macy twists it open. “It looks brand-new.”
“I haven’t had reason to use it.”
Macy puts it down and opens the top drawer.
Grace’s eyes widen. “He’s gone through my things.”
“That’s what I thought.”
She lowers her voice to a whisper. “I’m pretty sure he’s taken some of my underwear.”
“Take your time, Grace. I’ll need a description of everything that’s missing.”
Grace’s hands tremble as she sorts through her clothing. “He’s taken Thursday and Saturday.”
“Excuse me?”
Her face reddens. “It’s the days of the week.” She holds up a pair of pale blue underwear. “They’re written here on the back. Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, and so on.”
Grace goes through the rest of the drawers and the closet, but everything seems to be in place. They both stop in front of the bookshelf and stare up at the collection of glass-eyed dolls. The dolls appear to be as pristine as the day they were bought. Grace picks one up and its blue eyes roll back in its head. The porcelain skin is pure white. The hair is done in plaits and she wears a traditional German dress.
“That’s a lot of dolls,” says Macy.
Grace puts the doll back on the shelf, taking care to place it in the exact position it had been in previously.
“They were gifts from my uncle. Whenever he went away on a trip, he’d bring one back for me.”
“It looks like they’ve never been played with.”
“They’re not meant to be played with. They’re collectibles.”
On the other bookshelf a brand-new teddy bear sits front and center. Grace picks it up and turns it over in her hands but makes no comment. The rest of the stuffed animals appear to have been ravaged by a family pet. Many have been patched up but a few are still missing body parts.
Macy picks up a particularly homely kangaroo. “Did you have a dog?”