Page 13 of Sinister Secrets

“Over dinner. First things first.”

Jake leads me over to the table and gestures for me to sit. It takes the last of my energy to remain upright as he carries over plates and silverware, then the food.

It’s always a shock to realize how much I’ve depended on stubbornness and adrenaline to keep me going over the years. The major disconnect that sometimes exists between my brain and my body that I’ve only discovered since I’ve been with Jake. The utter relief it is to have someone I trust enough to drop my guard around.

I open the box he sets before me and swoon. Not for the first time, I wonder how I got so lucky to have this man take care of me like this.

“Have I told you how much I love you?” I ask as I grab a fork and dig into the giant heap of pasta, not bothering with the plate he’s brought me. There won’t be any leftovers.

Taking the seat beside me, he runs his thumb over the ring I wear on my left hand—the one he gave me but we never talk about. It’s too soon to be… that kind of ring. At the same time, it’s where we both see this relationship heading. Isn’t it?

“You sure everything’s okay?”

I try not to let it bother me that he didn’t say the L-word back. “Yeah, why?”

“You look worried.”

“I’m just a little stressed about working this case.”

“Because of Kingston?”

“Yes,” I say, even though it’s not the whole truth. Though far from my favorite person, the sheriff isn’t the cause of the unsettled feeling that’s taken root deep in the pit of my stomach. The one that stems from the growing suspicion that whoever ditched the body in Chomp’s pond, it wasn’t random.

There are endless places to dispose of a corpse in the Everglades where it wouldn’t be found, which means that the person who did this wanted their crime discovered. This feels personal, like an affront against me that they chose the Sanctuary for their twisted little game to play out. Because even though I’m doing my best to keep an open mind, I’m convinced that what we’re dealing with is a homicide.

And the fact that someone came on the property the back way, through the neighborhood that had been bought out with the intent to make a profit—an enormously large profit—that I put a stop to? It’s had my insides twisting into knots all day.

“So what’s the next step?” Jake asks.

“I’ll attend the autopsy. Hopefully that will give us a better idea of what happened and who it happened to.”

I debate sharing the grisly details about the corpse, the obliterated face and the damaged fingertips that will make identifying the victim a monumental task. How, even if the remains match those of someone recently reported missing nearby, given the extent of the damage to the skull, a dental comparison may be impossible. Or that if we’re forced to wait for a DNA match, we could be spinning our wheels for weeks.

Saying any of it out loud feels like I’d be admitting defeat, so I change the subject instead. “You’re supposed to be telling me about your day.”

“I met with your friend Delores to discuss a new venture she wants me to spearhead.”

Delores Kennedy is a formidable and highly successful self-made businesswoman who I met at the annual gala that Jake’s law firm hosts. Though they’d been trying to sign her as a client for years, it wasn’t until she took an uncanny liking to me that it became a reality.

“And?” I ask.

An excited smile lights his face. “And it’s exactly the kind of project I’ve always wanted to be a part of. She plans on buying out the most environmentally unfriendly companies operating in and around the ‘Glades and setting up a fund for residents living in poverty to reclaim local commerce using sustainable practices. If I can figure out a way to make it profitable, this venture will have a huge impact on the people who need help the most.”

“That doesn’t sound like it’s going to be easy.”

“It won’t. And it’s going to take up a lot of my time. But if we manage to pull it off, it’ll be worth it.”

“Do you think you’ll be able to make it happen?”

He gives me that grin of his that never fails to set me on fire. “You know how determined I can be when I’m properly motivated. That’s why we’re already celebrating.”

He hops up and retrieves a bottle of champagne from the fridge. Releases the cage and pops the cork with a smooth, practiced move, and I can’t help but think about how far the man’s come from the little boy I once knew. How far we’ve both come since our childhoods turned tragic.

Though the loneliness the loss of my parents left behind isn’t as crippling as it once was, there’s no denying that I still feel it lurking inside of me. Seeing Lucy earlier today made some of those feelings resurface—the years I spent feeling brittle and broken, longing for what I’d once had.

Catching Jake’s eye, I give him a smile. I’m so grateful to have recovered one of the people I’d lost. Now, with my old friend back in the neighborhood, possibly, hopefully, two.

I stare at the bubbles in the glass he hands me, watching them rise to the top as he fills his own flute before gently knocking it against mine in a toast. The fizz tickles my nose as I take a sip, the alcohol immediately weighing my limbs, reminding me how exhausted I am, but I vow to not let it ruin our night. Just like I won’t let any threat—no matter how powerful—destroy the life we’re building together, no matter what I have to do.