Whispers of You (The Lost & Found Series Book 1)

The lights in the break room hummed as I stared at the coffee spilling into my mug. I willed it to magically have more caffeine. Okay, something more than caffeine—maybe just shy of cocaine. Shoving the pot back under the drip, I poured creamer into the inky blackness.

Amber strode in wearing street clothes and grabbed a takeout container from the fridge. She let out a low whistle as she took me in. “Rough night?”

“That obvious?”

She winced. “Just look a little tired.”

“Didn’t get the best sleep.” Understatement of the century. Maybe I could get one of the EMTs to give me an IV and pour the coffee directly into it.

“You didn’t have any more incidents at your place, did you?”

I tried to hide my wince. Small town. Working for the department. Nothing was private. “No, nothing like that.”

Not unless you counted an overbearing ex-boyfriend and nosy friends.

“Good.” Amber idled for a moment. “I’m off the rest of the day and tonight. If you’d feel better with someone at your place tonight, just give me a call.”

I had to fight the urge to rear back. It wasn’t that Amber was ever rude to me, it was that I could feel her grief every time she was forced to be in my presence. The fact that she would even offer to come and stay said a heck of a lot about her character. “Thanks, Amber. I really appreciate that.”

“No problem.” She gave me a sort of half wave and headed for the door.

I leaned back against the counter and took a long drink of my coffee. “Please give me a miracle,” I whispered into my cup.

“Talking to beverages now? Should I be worried?”

My gaze snapped up at the familiar, raspy tone. But I wished I hadn’t looked. Holt wore workout shorts that hung low on his hips and a T-shirt that clung to every ridge of muscle. I swallowed. Hard. “What are you doing here?”

He stepped into the break room, and I fought the urge to flee. “Meeting Lawson for a sparring session, but I was hoping we could talk. Do you have a minute?”

I wondered if I could chug the coffee first. I needed all my synapses firing at full speed for a conversation with Holt. “I’ve got five minutes left on my break.”

He nodded and shut the door behind him.

The room suddenly felt too small—as if the walls were closing in around me and making it hard to breathe. And even though Holt was still feet away, I swore I smelled that blend of pine and spice. Either that or I was having some sort of scent hallucinations now.

Holt twisted his keys around his finger. “I’m sorry I steamrolled you this morning. I’m used to coming into a problem and having people expect me to fix it.”

“I’m not a problem,” I gritted out.

His eyes flashed. “No, but someone creeping around your place is. I’ve worked more stalking cases than I can count. I just wanted to help. But, instead, I was overbearing and rude. I’m sorry.”

What was I supposed to say to that? It was hard to hold onto my mad when Holt was being all reasonable. “Thanks.”

He gripped the keys tighter. “I would like to help if you’d be comfortable with it.”

“Holt, it’s a bad idea.”

“Cricket, there’s nothing I can do that will fix the past. There’s not much I have to give now. But I can give this. It’s what I do, and I’m damn good at it.”

The sincerity and the deep pain beneath it were too much. I felt those danged walls I’d constructed to keep Holt at a distance crumbling. “No motion detectors, and no cameras inside the house.”

A grin stretched across his face. “I can work with that.”

“And we need to talk price. It has to be affordable. We come up with a budget before you order anything.”

“Totally fair. My friend owns the company I use for alarm components, so he’ll get us a good deal.”

I arched a brow. “Is this company good?”

“Halo security systems are the best in the business. You know I wouldn’t put anything less in your house.”

I did know, damn it. And I’d also seen that name before on homes and businesses. “Okay. Let me crunch some numbers, and I’ll figure out what I can afford.”

Holt’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. “Thanks for letting me do this. For trusting me with it.”

There was that dangerous T-word. Did I trust Holt? With my life? Yes. Without hesitation. With my traitorous heart? Never again.

“Sure. I need to get back.”

A little of the smile slipped from Holt’s face. “Of course. Just text me when you have a budget.”

I still had Holt’s number in my phone. I’d never managed to work up the courage to delete it as if some part of me were still holding onto hope that it would flash on my phone someday.

I forced the memories from my mind and nodded, slipping around him and out the door. I maneuvered through a scattering of desks until I got to the dispatch corner. Abel’s gaze lifted to me, surveying. “You okay?”

“Right as rain.”

He grunted. “That boy looks like you just stole his last cookie.”

I couldn’t help taking a quick glance over my shoulder. Holt’s focus was zeroed in on me, his thumb skating back and forth under his bottom lip. The move was so familiar it lit an ache in the deepest parts of me. Igniting a wish that things could be different. That I could erase the last ten years somehow and change that day and everything that followed.

I jerked my gaze back to my computer. “Definitely wasn’t me.”

Abel snorted. “Whatever you say.”

The phone rang, and I hurried to slip my headset on. “Cedar Ridge police, fire, and medical. What’s your emergency?”

“Oh, God. Oh, God. Oh, God.” A woman’s voice cut across the line, breathy and staccato.

“Ma’am, can you tell me what’s happening?” I quickly scanned the readout as the woman continued her chant. “Ms. Peterson. You need to tell me what’s going on so I can help you.”

“H-he’s dead. I think he’s dead.”

“Who’s dead?” My hands flew across the keyboard as Abel got on the radio to alert officers.

“Albert. I—oh, God. I think someone shot him.”

Blood pounded in my ears as the world around me tunneled. Albert Peterson. My sophomore biology and junior chemistry teacher. The man who had always looked at me with kindness. Who had always taken those extra minutes to check in and make sure I was doing okay. One of the members of that club no one wanted to be a member of but were thankful for just the same. A survivor.

“Ms. Peterson. Where are you?”

“I j-just got home, and he was lying on the kitchen floor.”

“I need you to check and see if you can feel a pulse or determine if he’s breathing.”

“There’s so much blood.”

Flashes of memories cycled in my mind. The fire in my chest. The cool tile beneath me. The sticky substance tracking down my arm.

I bit the inside of my cheek, hard. “I know it’s scary, but you can do this. Officers and EMTs are on their way to you now.”

The room behind me was in an uproar. I knew everyone but two officers would take this call. Off-duty cops would flood the place in minutes, wanting to offer their help and support. And our community would lose their mind.

“Oh, God. He’s breathing.”

All the air left me in a whoosh. “That’s good. Can you see the wound?”

“It’s in his chest or his shoulder.” Ms. Peterson struggled to get the words out around her sobs.

“Grab a towel and put pressure on the wound. We want to do everything we can to slow the blood loss.”

“I’ve got one.”

A low moan sounded in the background.

“I’m so sorry, Al. I’m so sorry I’m hurting you.”

“Ms. Peterson, is anyone else in the house with you? Did you see anyone when you came in?”

“No, no one. Who would do this?” Her words were a hushed plea.

I didn’t know. The kind of cruelty it would take to do this to a man who had already been through hell was almost too much to comprehend. “Are there any weapons in the home?”

“No. Nothing like that.”

I could hear Abel relaying all this information to the responding officers.

“I hear sirens. They’re coming.”

“Just stay on the phone with me until they tell you otherwise.”

“Don’t let him die.” Ms. Peterson’s voice trembled with the force of her sobs. “Please, don’t let him die. I almost lost him once…”

Silent tears streamed down my face. “Keep fighting. For both of you.”

“Cedar Ridge police.”

I recognized Nash’s voice across the line.

Ms. Peterson’s sobs just came harder. “Help him. Please, help him.”

There were muffled calls of “clear” and then Nash’s voice was in my ear. “We’ve got her, Wren.”

“O-okay.” It was only then that my voice trembled. Knowing she was safe. That Mr. Peterson had a fighting chance now that help had arrived.

I pulled my headset off in a shaky daze, barely aware as I hung up the call. The world around me had a fuzzy quality to it like an old television set with a weak signal.

Someone swung my chair around. I couldn’t make out the face, only a blurry form. It was the scent that told me everything. Pine with a hint of spice.

I didn’t think, I simply threw myself at Holt. His arms wrapped around me. I wasn’t sure if I was crying or simply shaking but Holt was my anchor. The only way I could stay in the here and now.

He held me, and he didn’t let go.