Page 4 of Grave Secrets

“Meaning?” I ask.

“Archer thinks someone is hurting her. He can’t figure out much because she doesn’t talk about her personal life when it comes to anything home-related,” Alan says.

“So an abusive boyfriend,” I remark.

“That’s what he thinks,” he says.

“I wonder if that’s why Judge Jackson has you with her so much,” Carlo suggests.

“We can do some digging and be discreet,” I say. “I’ll see what I can figure out.”

“Viktor,” Alan says.

“I know, Alan,” I sigh.

“Well, listen anyway,” Alan says. “You are a good man, but I will kill you myself if you even look at her the wrong way. Her parents were good people, and I promised them I’d look after her.”

“How is that working out with the abusive boyfriend?” I quip.

“Her parents died when she was fifteen, and she went to a foster home where she was raped by her foster father. The day after she reported it to her high school, the foster father was found hanging in his garage. The college guy who drugged and raped her, he lost his brakes and hit a tree going 120,” Alan says calmly. You’d think we were chit-chatting about the weather right now. “Every time someone has hurt that girl, I’ve been there to make sure they pay the price for it. Her mother was my wife’s best friend from birth. Her father was mine and Martin’s. They both were like family. Ada… She is my family, but we are sparing her until we can’t anymore. You can either be on the side where you get to continue breathing, or I’ll be sure to bring some carnations to your funeral.”

“I understand,” I say. I’m not generally afraid of anyone but my mother, but Alan is so calm that it’s frightening.

“Good,” Alan says. “Maybe take the therapy seriously, too. She’s done so well with Archer that I started talking to her, too.”

“The big bad Alan in therapy,” Carlo remarks with a smile.

“There is no shame in taking care of yourself, son. Digging up the most vulnerable parts of yourself and learning what makes you tick is the strongest thing a man can do,” Alan says.

“She made me cry,” Andre laughs. “She might be too good at her job.”

“Trauma makes you observant,” I say.

“Broken recognizes broken,” Alan says.

“Indeed, it does.”

Sweet Ada. Where do you keep all your grave secrets hidden? I can’t wait to find them all.

Chapter Three

Ada

I’m staring at myself in my visor mirror, contemplating going back to that bridge and driving off. I’ve never been suicidal, but I’ve never lost the last piece of my parents before. I was able to manage because at least I had that. I had their rings—something to symbolize their love.

Now…

Now I just hurt. Everything—my body included—hurts.

I stayed in the office to sleep last night, and now I hurt. I know better than that. My back pain can get debilitating at times, so sleeping on a couch is a horrific idea. It was the soundest sleep I have gotten in a long time, though, because I was locked in there. I didn’t have anyone trying to fuck me in my sleep. No one to wake me up for no goddamn reason. I was able to just… sleep.

I am about to be late for this man’s first appointment. I can see Andre and Viktor at the door waiting for me. Andre is like a goddamn bloodhound for when someone is hurt, and boy, am I hurting. It feels like I’ve been kicked in the pussy by a donkey. Well, it was a jackass. My back is hurting. I have a stress headache and fucking whiplash from Chris acting all sweet and shit this morning. Like he didn’t hit me, rape me, and put a gun to my head. I have the gun, though. He saw me pick it up from where he left it on the coffee table and put it in my bag. I’m going to give it to Andre to hold onto, but I know he will have questions.

I slowly get out of my car before walking around to grab my bag. I just have this one appointment, but I’m going to get some work done after. I made sure to tell Chris so he’d stay off my ass for being supposedly late.

“Good morning,” I say with a smile as I walk up. Viktor turns to look at me, and goddamn, if he isn’t fine as fuck. Sweet mother of God, I’d climb his tall ass like a tree. Viktor has short, almost buzz-cut, brown hair and a close-shaven beard. His muscles are massive—I’m talking bodybuilder, snap-your-ass-in-half type of guy. I trust Andre, so I am not worried. Although I’m surprised the charge was attempted murder and not actual murder.

“You are late,” Andre says.