Page 31 of The Biker’s Guilty Pleasur

Grace bent down when she saw one of her plants on the ground, the soil spilled out. She uprighted the little plant and starting scooping the soil back into the ceramic container. Part of her felt numb, in a trance, the other beyond violated.

Then she remembered her photo albums. She rushed to where she’d left them but found the albums in a pile on the ground. All the pictures of her family were still there. She sat on the floor and hugged them to her chest, the tears falling now. This was how many of those women at the shelter must have felt at some point, only caring about their memories in the photo albums. At the end of the day, memories were the most valuable things a person had.

Grace wiped away her tears and grabbed a bag from the kitchen. She put her albums, her injured plant, and a few personal effects in it before leaving. She wasn’t sure what she should do. The police wouldn’t be able to do anything. She didn’t have insurance because she had nothing of value. Reaper would know what to do. She’d tell him tonight when he picked her up at the shelter. One thing for certain. She was glad she’d listened to Reaper and stayed at his place.

Grace signed in at the shelter and felt instantly at ease. She’d been shaking a lot on the walk over. This was a safe and familiar place for her. It made her strong because she had to be strong for the other women needing support.

“Hi, Grace,” Helen said. “Gena wants to see everyone when they come in.”

“Anything I should know?” she asked.

“Just a few questions. We all had to answer them.”

Grace went down the hall to the front offices to look for Gena. She was at her desk, her usual music not turned on.

“Gena, everything okay?”

She looked up as if she’d been a million miles away. “Grace, come on in. Have a seat.”

After sitting on the other side of the desk, feeling too formal, she waited. She set the plastic bag on the corner of the desk and left her purse on her lap.

“I just wanted to ask you if you’ve found anything unusual around here. Specifically, during the intake of Heidi Cartwright and her daughter.”

Grace was taken aback. “Like what?”

She was surprised the focus was still on Heidi. Was her husband still causing problems?

“I have no idea. Did she give you anything?”

“What? No. I know the rules, Gena. I’d never take anything from an admit.”

Gena exhaled. “I know, Grace. I’m sorry. I just have to ask.”

“Is there something going on?”

She felt like a criminal, and didn’t feel like Gena believed her when she said she’d never take anything. It was one hundred percent the truth.

Grace stood up and dropped her purse on the desk with a thump, tipping it forward so her belongings started spilling out. It was more for dramatic purposes but it mirrored the violent emotions whirling inside her right now.

“Grace, stop. I believe you.”

She dug through the contents, trying to symbolically prove she wasn’t a thief. She wasn’t.

All she had were old receipts, her wallet, keys, lozenges, and about mismatched five pens. That’s when she realized there was one she didn’t recognize. It probably was Heidi’s because she’d borrowed her pen when filling out the paperwork with her after hours. She ignored it because Gena wouldn’t worry about a dumb pen and it wouldn’t look good on her right now.

“I don’t steal from the women here,” she said.

Gena rubbed a hand over her face. “There’s been a lot going on. I do trust you. What’s with the plant?” She nodded toward the plastic bag.

Grace looked at the corner of the desk. Her little plant was peeking out.

“That’s another story.”

“I have no plans,” Gena said.

“My apartment was broken into. It looked like a tornado went through. I got my photo albums and nothing else looks stolen anyway. It’s just a massive mess.”

“Like they were looking for something?”