Beautifully Damaged (Beautifully Damaged series) by L.A. Fiore (21)

I was sound asleep when I heard what sounded like an animal being tortured. At first, I thought that the noise was coming from my dream, but what in my dream would make such a tormented cry? Another wail of pain and I woke. When the cry came again, my blood turned to ice in my veins. It was Trace, who was beginning to thrash around in his sleep. After Chelsea shared her startling observation two weeks earlier, Trace’s sleep had been more restless but the nightmares were new.

I reached for the bedside light and when the soft glow filled the room I hoped it would wake him, but whatever was haunting his dreams had a firm hold on him. His beautiful face twisted in agony and it was heartbreaking to see him in such a state. If his parents weren’t already dead, I’d sure as hell like to have a go at them, the fuckers.

I moved to wrap myself around him as I whispered in his ear, “Trace, it’s Ember. Wake up, baby, you’re safe. I’ve got you; my arms and legs are wrapped around you. You’re safe. Please wake up.”

I kept up the soft words for almost five minutes and slowly he started to calm down. I knew the moment he woke because I felt him tense a moment before his arms wrapped around me. He turned his head into my neck just as I ran my hand down his cheek. I felt a dampness there, which made my heart twist in pain.

“Are you okay?”

His lips brushed over my neck. “I am now.”

He pulled my mouth to his for a kiss of such raw emotion that my heart literally skipped a couple of beats. He rolled so that we were lying side by side. His mouth moved from mine as his arms wrapped around me to hold me close. Together we drifted back into sleep.

In the morning I woke to find that I was still wrapped in Trace’s arms. I thought he was still asleep and I needed to use the bathroom, so I attempted to move without waking him.

“Good morning.”

I turned to find him watching me and based on the look of him, he’d been doing it for some time.

“Good morning.”

He brushed the hair from my cheek as his eyes held my gaze. “Thank you for last night.”

I could tell he really didn’t want to talk about it so instead of asking the questions that were on the tip of my tongue, I replied, “I’m glad that I was here.”

Later that day Trace was working in his office and I was eating lunch and working on the campaign coverage in the kitchen when the doorbell rang. Trace poked his head into the kitchen on his way to the door.

“I’ve got it.”

I recognized the voices immediately, so I joined the others in the living room.

“Dad, Uncle Josh.” I suspected my uncle would be paying a visit but I was pleasantly surprised to see my dad. “Did you find something out?”

“We’re still looking into it, but Josh had some questions for Trace.” Uncle Josh and Trace had begun looking over crime scene photos from that night thirteen years ago. I wasn’t really listening to their conversation. I was too busy checking out the photos as well. Trace’s entire house had been photographed and it was while I was reviewing them that I made a discovery.

“That mirror, you have one very similar to it at Clover, Trace.”

He studied the mirror before he said, “Actually, that is the same mirror. It was one of the only possessions of my mother’s that I kept.”

“Is there another like it?”

He looked up at me before he replied, “No, it’s a one-of-a-kind piece. Why?”

“That night at Clover, with the Michaelses, Vivian said she recognized the mirror, but she also claimed to never have been in your parents’ house.”

Uncle Josh asked, “Trace, before the restaurant, the mirror was in your home in Ohio? But you said it was your mom’s, so it came from her side of the family, like an heirloom, so it’s possible that Charles could have known about it?”

“Yes.”

“So either Vivian saw the mirror when it was still in her husband’s family’s possession or she lied and had been to your house. It can’t hurt to look deeper into her background.”

Uncle Josh moved to join me as my dad walked over to talk with Trace.

“I’ve been asking around at the hospital where your mother worked and some of the nurses remember that right before she died she was agitated about something. They aren’t really certain of the details, but they believe she was attempting to cut through some red tape. There is a record of Douglas Stanwyck being treated at Penn Medical Center, but he was treated in the ER. Mandy worked in obstetrics so there isn’t a link there. One name came up frequently among those I spoke to, a Darlene Moore who worked with Mandy in obstetrics, but so far I’ve been unable to locate her. She could probably shed a bit more light on what Mandy was up to. I’ll keep looking.”

“Can you do me another favor?”

“Sure thing.”

“Could you look into a Mrs. Fletcher who worked for Trace’s family?”

“Sure, why?”

“Closure.”