A mentally ill woman, seeking revenge for her rejected brother, had kidnapped and tortured Madi.
Two black SUVs were parked a few feet down, on either side of the access road. Each had someone standing behind an open front door, with a rifle resting in the v between the door and the SUV frame.
I gripped my thighs to keep my hands from shaking and prayed to wake up from the nightmare my life had become.
As we drove past them, Jack saluted Nathan. Nathan nodded.
My breath caught in my throat as reality slammed into me.
This is because of me. They’re protecting me. They’ll get hurt because of me.
“Nina, you’re safe. We won’t let anything happen to you.”
Easy for him to say. His life hadn’t turned into a living nightmare. All the cloak and dagger stuff might be normal for him and the rest of SSI, but I was just a barista.
And I had to worry about the psychos going after my grandmother. How was I supposed to take care of her with people hunting me?
After Nathan escorted me in through the back door, I stood staring at the floor while he talked to John.
Five minutes later, Jack and Cate came in.
“They left. Jay and AJ are watching the road to make sure they don’t return,” Jack said.
“Will they be okay?” I asked. I didn’t want them getting hurt because of me.
“They’ll be fine,” Jack assured me.
“Mary will be here soon with Natalie and food. Until then, let’s go upstairs and get started,” John said, ushering me up the stairs and into the conference room I’d recently seen too often for comfort.
Funny how I’d often wondered what the SSI office was like, but now that I’d had to visit, I wished I’d never seen the inside.
The table was covered with papers and photos, and a jewelry box.
“Is that what you found?” I asked, in awe of the quantity of things on the table.
Pictures.That’s where my heart directed my eyes and my hands.
“Wait,” Austin said, handing me gloves.
It was then that I noticed he and most of the others were wearing latex gloves.
“We haven’t finished dusting for prints.”
I slid the gloves on and reached for the stack of photos.
A couple I now recognized as my parents on their wedding day.
Them standing in front of the Eiffel Tower.Paris or Vegas?I turned the picture over.Paris.
A picture of my father standing behind my mother, his hands on her belly, hers over his.Was she pregnant?She looked thin, but maybe they’d just found out.
Pictures of my parents all over western Europe, with my mother’s belly getting progressively bigger in each one.
A tear slipped from my cheek and splashed on the picture.
A hand landed gently on my shoulder while another took the photos from me.
“They looked so happy,” I said, wiping the tears from my face with the tissue Austin handed me.
