He palmed it for a second. No word from Reece since his inexplicable demand for a moment of video. If Reece was acting erratically, Grayson should wait, should let him make the next move, should see what he did, shouldn’t text first.
Hedefinitelyshouldn’t text Reece the words in his head: That would be a very bad decision.
Ironically, it might’ve been that thought that made his fingers move.
Jamey had just hung up with Grayson when a white BMW coupe she didn’t recognize pulled into the driveway. She stepped out to her front porch as the Beamer’s door opened and Gretel Macy climbed out of the car. Gone were the lipstick and tailored pencil skirts and pumps Jamey was used to seeing her in; instead, Gretel was in leggings and a giant sweatshirt, nose red and makeup smeared around her eyes, her gorgeous mane of hair artlessly tangled in a rat’s nest bun on the top of her head.
“I got your voicemail,” Gretel said awkwardly, and wiped at her eyes.
They had always been on opposite sides of everything empath, and hadn’t even known each other beyond that, but Jamey was hurrying down the stairs anyway. “Aw, Gretel, I’m so sorry.”
And then they were hugging. “Thanks, Jamey,” Gretel said, muffled by Jamey’s coat as she clung to the hug.
They stayed together for a long moment, Jamey’s own losses stinging fresh. God, she missed Reece.
Finally, Gretel pulled back, fresh tears in her eyes. “Sorry to just turn up like this,” she said thickly, wiping at her face. “I didn’t know where else to go. I can’t talk to the cops. And this probably doesn’t come as a shock, but being a weird obsessive crackpot means I don’t have a lot of friends.”
“I’m glad you’re here,” Jamey said firmly, tugging her up the stairs to the deck. “Come inside.”
Jamey put the electric kettle on, then settled Gretel at the kitchen table with a throw blanket draped over her shoulders. “You said you can’t talk to the cops?” she gently prompted.
Gretel pulled the blanket tighter around her. “They won’t even let me see my parents’ bodies.”
“I’m so sorry,” Jamey said again as she put a few boxes of tea on the table, knowing how useless and insufficient the words were.
“And it’s not just that. They won’tlisten.” Gretel looked up at her. “My parents’ murder was a fucking setup.”
Jamey frowned. “What do you mean?”
“I was at my parents’ house yesterday when my dad got a call.” Gretel swallowed hard. “I heard part of the conversation. This person wanted to do dinner, but asked my dad to meet him at AMI first.”
Jamey’s eyebrows went up.
“Lieutenant Parson dismissed it,” Gretel said, deeply bitter. “Told me it was a coincidence.”
Jamey poured boiling water into two mugs. Parson had been her supervising officer when she’d been a detective on the force. Empathy-related investigations were a federal, not state affair, and shrouded in secrecy to boot; Parson very well might be under orders not to let the SPD follow any leads.
But Jamey wasn’t on the force anymore. She could followany damn lead she wanted. “Do you know who called your dad?” she asked as she set a mug in front of Gretel and took the seat next to her with the other mug.
“I think I do.” She wrapped her hands around the mug. “But no one is ever going to believe me.”
Jamey leaned in. “I will believe you,” she promised quietly. “You could tell me it was the president and I’d still believe you.”
Gretel let out a shaky breath. There was a look of despair in her eyes that Jamey recognized all too well from other victims who believed justice was beyond their reach. “My dad mentioned coming out of retirement and called the personCharles. I assumed he was talking to Charles Stone.”
Jamey’s eyes widened. “Charles Stone as in Stone Solutions? Cedrick Stone’s famous dad?”
Gretel nodded. “My parents are friends with all of them.” She swallowed. “Werefriends.”
“Jesus,” Jamey muttered. But the more she thought it over, the more it made a twisted kind of sense. Who else besides a Stone would have enough power and resources to pull something like this off? “Well, like I said, I believe you. Did you tell the SPD you suspect Charles Stone?”
“Absolutely not.” Gretel reached for one of the herbal teas. “I don’t see how I can even accuse a man like that. I don’t know what to do. Except, well.” She gestured around them. “Turn up unannounced at a former detective’s house.”
“Not a bad plan, actually,” Jamey said. “Because I’m going to try to help.”
“Really?” A watery smile played on Gretel’s lips. “That’s, you know.” She sniffed. “Veryempatheticof you.”
“Hazards of growing up with an empath brother,” Jamey said wryly.
