Page 119 of It Runs in the Family

I knew he intended to keep me safe, but sometimes fate made its own demands. Boone could try to protect me, but somewhere along the way he would fail.

What was I doing? Why was I just accepting my death? It was time to kick fate in the balls. I’d changed visions before. Once, I’d had multiple visions that Rita wrecked her car into a light pole, and the day I saw her wearing those same clothes, I tried to get her to let me drive. She changed clothes and said she was safe now, but when she swerved to avoid hitting a raccoon in the road, I reached over and grabbed the wheel. We narrowly missed the pole.

So, it could be changed. I just needed to figure out how.

Still holding his hand, I forced another vision. I asked fate, If I stop looking for Selena, will I be murdered?

I had the exact same vision, and again I blurted, “He’s going to kill me.”

Sympathy filled his eyes. “Iris.”

I forced a smile as I tried to get my breathing under control. “Sorry. I was just being dramatic.” I pointed to the laptop screen. “We need to figure out what this means. And we need to figure out who the victim was.”

“We don’t necessarily need to figure that part out,” Boone said. “The sheriff’s department might already have that part solved.”

“Not likely, given Garrett was asking about her less than half an hour ago.” I picked up my phone and opened my photo library, trying to ignore the blood and bullet hole and focus on the other parts.

“What are you looking for?” Boone asked, still sounding gentle, like he feared I was going to break into pieces.

A firm resolve filled me, and I steeled my back.

Iris Gardner didn’t break. She bent, she swayed in the winds of fate, but she didn’t break.

“Anything to help us figure out who she is.”

“We tried the shirt angle,” he said. “And that was a bust.”

“Maybe so, but I figured out she was wearing an old diner shirt,” I said, sliding around the image of the victim at a super magnification. “Garrett still doesn’t know that. He only knows she doesn’t work here now.”

“True,” he conceded.

“So maybe there’s something else I can piece together before they can.”

“Okay…” he said, sounding unsure. “What do you think you’re gonna notice?”

I continued to scan the image, starting with the chipped blue polish on her bare toes, but I had no idea how I could use that.

Then I moved up her legs, looking for scars or tattoos and finding none. Next, I focused on her denim shorts. I recognized the white embroidered daisy on the front pocket. Wal-Mart had carried them last summer—I’d considered buying a pair, but my size had been sold out—which meant a good percentage of the women in Mesquite County probably owned a pair. Nothing special there.

I moved on to her hands, looking for a ring or something unique, when I saw the blue bracelet on her wrist. Blue braided threads with red beads. It was hard to see the beads, but they were there.

“This.” I pointed to the screen, holding my phone so Boone could see it.

“That bracelet?”

“Yes. They sold them at Marvin’s Mercantile this past fall. The blue ones sold out on the first day. They only had three.”

He stared at me like I’d revealed the exact timing of the second coming of Jesus. “How do you know that?”

“Because my cousin Rachel has one. She bragged about it at Sunday dinner, sayin’ she was only one of three women who had it. That it was one of a kind.”

A wry look filled his eyes. “It’s actually three of a kind.”

I nodded solemnly. “She didn’t appreciate it when I told her the same thing.”

A grin lit up his face as he looked into my eyes, and my stomach flipped end over end. It wasn’t fair that this guy could shoot my hormones from zero to hot and bothered in point-six seconds.

“You’re like a breath of fresh air, Spitfire.”