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“None of you are to blame,” Summer’s voice booms. I’ve never heard her yell before, so the deep timber of her voice catches me off guard. All eyes fall to her as she steps around the island and points at the three of us before continuing, “If you’re guilty of anything it’s loving my daughter. Of caring for her. Sam believed everything happens for a reason, and right now, I need you to believe as well. It’s the only thing that’s gotten me through this. Her death was tragic, it almost killed me, but it happened, and we may never know what the reason was. However, we can start by finding the asshole responsible.”
Summer’s hand flies to her lips.
I’ve never seen her so angry. Never heard her swear. She’s never needed to. If she has a point to make, she can do it without getting worked up or shouting profanities.
We all know this, which is why the four of us can’t help but laugh. Mia’s the first to break, her laughter echoing off the walls of the loft. I follow suit, and the guys aren’t far behind me. Summer’s face is bright red, but she soon joins us.
As our laughter begins to fade, the mood in the room shifts again. It’s heavy. Realization settling in.
“I’d feel better if we caught a break. I don’t care how small; anything is better than nothing. Hell, if we could find her apron, I’d fucking run naked through town with a smile on my face.” Spencer’s voice cuts through the tension like a knife.
“Her apron?” I ask as his words sink in, my mind running a mile a minute, attempting to remember if it was mentioned in the files anywhere.
“It wasn’t with her. They think he took it with him,” Spencer explains.
“A trophy,” I whisper to myself. The words are barely out when I realize what we’re missing, my head whipping in Jay’s direction. When our eyes meet, he nods and we’re out the door without looking back.
