I was fury and death incarnate. Rage flowed through me unchecked, unbounded. I was going to tear them bit by bloody bit until they screamed and perished.
Travis returned a moment later. “Come look, cap.”
I followed him, slowly raging, boiling deep down in my body. Travis led me out into the garage where I was faced with a grisly scene.
There was blood everywhere, all over the floor, on every surface. Something had happened here. Clearly they’d killed Coop, but something else had happened. Objects were knocked over, paint cans upended, sports equipment torn from the walls.
“He struggled,” Travis said.
“Yeah. Wasn’t enough.”
“But look at this.” He crouched down next to something and pointed. “What do you make of it?”
Next to one of the cleaner spots on the floor was a drawing in the blood. It looked like a mitten.
I cocked my head. “I have no clue, but Cooper clearly left this for us.”
“Shit,” Travis said. “It’s like a baseball glove or a mitten.”
“Take a picture. Let’s get out of here.”
Travis nodded and took out his phone.
I left the garage, heading back out of the house. Cooper had struggled and left us a clue, and we were going to use that to find his killers.
This was far from over.
Chapter 27
Tara
I woke up slowly to an empty bed.
As I stared up at the unfamiliar ceiling, I remembered everything that had happened in the last day. I remembered the attack, the blood, the bodies, and Emory. I remembered his mouth and his fingers and the incredible bursting buzz that rolled over my spine as I came.
I remembered it all, gripping the sheets.
“Damn,” I said out loud, just to hear my own voice.
For a second, I thought I needed to get up and check on Mason, but then I realized that I had left him at Lindy’s, and a part of me felt awful. I hadn’t been away from Mason for any serious amount of time before. Sure, I’d left him to be watched by Lindy or my parents, but I felt like this was different.
I sat up, groggy but feeling better. I hadn’t realized how badly I’d needed sleep. I caught sight of a piece of paper on the bed next to me and grabbed it. It was a note from Emory telling me to stay in the room. I sighed, tossing it aside.
What did he think I was going to do, go running around? I knew where he was and understood why he hadn’t woken me. That was probably smart, since I would have tried to insist that he bring me along.
I hated that my parents were in danger. I was so full of worry and fear that I could hardly think.
I got out of bed and used the bathroom. I turned on the shower and stared at the water pouring down from the spigot, letting the room fill with steam from the hot water.
Finally, I worked up the courage to strip down and climb in. The hot water felt incredible, though practically scalding. I stood there letting it cover me, the water rolling down my body, washing away the grime and the sweat.
As I began to wash myself, I heard the door in the other room open. I paused, standing completely still. Fear jolted through me like lightning.
Then someone knocked on the door. “It’s me,” Emory called out.
I let out a breath, relieved. “I’m almost done. You can come in.”
I heard the door open. “We need to talk. Come out.” He shut the door abruptly.
I bit my lip, the fear still lingering there, but I pushed it back. I could handle it, whatever he needed to tell me. I was stronger than I had been, strong enough to handle anything he could throw at me. I had to be. I had no other choice.
I finished rinsing off and got out of the shower. I wrapped a towel around myself and walked out into the main room.
Emory was sitting on the bed, his head hanging in front of him.
“What happened?” I asked, steeling myself.
“Your parents were gone,” he said. “I don’t know where they are.”
I nodded slowly. “Okay.”
“Cooper was dead.”
I took a sharp breath. “Shit, Emory.” I went to him and sat down next to him. “I’m so sorry.”
“Coop was a good man, but we need to find your family and finish this now, make his death mean something.”
I leaned against him, trying to take some of his strength. “Okay,” I said. “How can I help?”
“Coop left something behind, a clue.” He pulled out his phone and showed me a picture. “What do you think?”
“Is this blood?”
Emory nodded slowly. “Coop’s own blood most likely. I’d guess this was his final act.”
“It looks like a mitten.”
“That’s what we think.”
I shook my head. “I don’t know.”