but Kenzie had always liked it. She also thought Mom had done a good job raising two girls on her own after Kenzie’s father skipped out on them.
Kenzie entered the kitchen, and only silence greeted her, so she headed down the hallway and peeked into the living room. Her mother wasn’t on either of the flower-patterned couches. Kenzie headed upstairs and passed by Joslyn’s bedroom, which hadn’t been changed since she died. Kenzie never minded, and often went in there when her mother didn’t know. She swore it still smelled like Joslyn. Then Kenzie strode by her bedroom, where clothes were scattered all over the floor, and she made a note to pick them up after she checked on Mom. Whenever Mom was drinking, something as small as that could set her off. Kenzie hated the yelling. The scent of dust and musk led her to the end of the hallway and toward her mother’s room.
“Mom,” she called.
Silence surrounded her, so she hurried her steps, more worries rushing through her mind. Though as she entered the largest bedroom of the house with the four-poster bed, her mind went blank. Her eyes became frozen on a gun lying on the bed with her mother’s hand next to it. Blood drenched the white sheets, turning them a dark crimson, and her mother’s blond hair was now a deep red.
The metallic scent swept through Kenzie’s nostrils, then all that followed next was Kenzie’s scream.
Kenzie returned to the present drenched in coldness, wishing she could erase that memory from her mind. It seemed permanently fixed there. She remembered when Gran had brought the afghan over to the house shortly after the ambulance and police had arrived. Kenzie didn’t recall what she’d said in her phone call to the police, but she did remember what Gran had said to her:
“I had made this for you to always keep you warm and safe. Now I know I made it for you for this day. Let this always feel like my arms wrapped around you, my sweet darling.”
Tears leaked from Kenzie’s eyes as she tore away from the blanket. Haunted, yes, she was at present being haunted by memories she wanted to forget. And it was all Porter’s fault—if he’d given her what she needed, this wouldn’t be happening.
Flickers of anger burned through her as she moved to the kitchen counter and grabbed the coffeepot, filling her to-go mug to the rim. Pushing away the heaviness in her soul, she added the top to her mug and then hurried out of her apartment, scared to look at anything. Maybe it was time to get new furnishings and pack up anything that stirred a memory. Or maybe Porter needed to give her a damn scene that would make her forget.
That seemed easier.
She hurried out the front door and headed down the long staircase leading to her bookstore on the lower level. A sense of peace washed over her as she entered the store, spotting the sun shining through the big windows at the front. While there were many painful memories, there were also so many happy memories in this store. Kenzie moved in with Gran after her mother’s death, and she gave Kenzie a life filled with love.
Her breathing was a little easier now as she approached the counter and noticed an envelope on the oak desk—a letter that hadn’t been there when she closed up shop last night. Confused, she reached for the letter and opened it, and that easy breath was now sucked out of her lungs.
I imagine you know who I am now. Take what I say seriously. There will be consequences. I’ll be expecting your phone call to the real estate agent by tomorrow night.
Kenzie dropped the letter as if it burned her, shaking from the inside out. Not only because she did take Adrik seriously, as it seemed that he had no intention of leaving her alone. Now it also appeared that he had the means to break into her bookstore without setting off the alarm.
He could have gotten into my apartment…
—
Wednesday afternoon couldn’t have come fast enough. Porter had been craving a beer all day long, and tonight