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“Here? In Comfort Cove?” She’d been here all along? Buried not far from her home?

It wasn’t the statistic they’d been hoping for. Poor Emma.

As Ramsey nodded, Lucy felt the loss for her friend just as she had for herself earlier in the week. The loss of hope.

“Where?”

“Right here.”

He wasn’t making any sense.

“Where is she buried, Ramsey? Did she at least get a proper grave? Tell me she wasn’t thrown in a hole in the ground like Allie was!” She wasn’t in control.

“She’s not buried. She’s alive.”

Her chest burned. And hurt. “She’s alive.”

“Yes.” His stare was intent. He was telling her something. And she wasn’t getting it.

“Here.”

“Yes.”

“Where, here?”

“In this room, here.”

She looked around. There were only the two of them standing there. He was losing it.

“Where, Ramsey? I don’t see anyone else in here with us.”

“You’re her, Luce. You’re Claire Sanderson.”

Her glass of cranberry juice fell to the floor.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

S he was sitting on a chair, bent over, with her head facedown in her knees. How she’d gotten there, how long she’d been there, Lucy didn’t know. A hand rested at the back of her neck, holding her. Activity flurried quietly around her.

“Get them in here.” That was Ramsey’s voice. Right above her. She was glad he was there.

Dots of red stained her ankles between her dark slacks and shoes, and stained the floor, too.

“Okay, back up. I’m sorry, Detective, we’ll need you to move.”

Black bulky shoes appeared in her line of vision. With blue cotton pants on top of them. A leather satchel, big and with a medical marking on it, appeared next to the feet. Her arm was taken, a band wrapped around it, and Lucy closed her eyes again.

She wasn’t her problem right now. Someone else would take care of it.

W hen Lucy opened her eyes again she was lying flat, stretched out on something cold and leather. Looking around, she noticed the refrigerator where she’d helped herself to juice.

Her mouth was dry. Had she ever had that sip of juice? She’d been waiting

on Ramsey. Where was he? “You’re awake.”

He was there, at the end of the sand-colored divan that had

been along the far wall of the break room in the precinct room of the Comfort Cove detective’s squad room.

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