positioning the pillows around
me. He helped prop me up against the headboard, making sure my leg was elevated and
then he headed out to the kitchen, returning with a glass of water that he placed
on the night stand next to me.
“I’ll be right back,” he said, and I nodded.
In his absence, my eyes drifted around the room. Nothing had changed, but so much
had. I waited in silence, not moving. Moving was painful.
It didn’t take long for him to return, and when he did, he was carrying a wooden chest
about half the size of the carry-on sized suitcase he rolled in behind him.
He climbed on the bed next to me—the box was in his hand and his eyes were locked
on the clasp. I heard him swallow hard, and the butterflies in my stomach multiplied.
That was what Darren had been talking about.
“I h-haven’t opened this in over three years.”
“What’s in it?” I asked in a whisper.
His hand moved over the lid, his voice a whisper. “Ghosts.”
With trembling hands he flicked the clasps and tilted it back, opening the contents
to the world.
My jaw dropped when my eyes landed on the picture that lay on top. It was the first
thing I noticed because I recognized the photo in question. It resided in Jack Holloway’s
office. Well, most of it did. Jack had hidden the third person in the picture. It
wasn’t only his daughter and him; it included Nathan.
“That’s Grace Holloway, Jack’s daughter.”
“Yes,” he agreed and swallowed hard once more, “but, her gravestone reads Grace Thorne.”
My eyes snapped to his. “Oh, my God.”
“There are a few at the office who know, those who have been around long enough. They
know, but have been asked not to say anything about it.”
I couldn’t speak. Shock shut my mind down.
Things Jack said came back to my mind. I was still new when his daughter had died
in an accident. He had grieved heavily for her, and I remembered being confused by
some of his behavior due to my own experiences with my dad.
I remembered talking to Dr. Morgenson about my boss’s behavior.
My stomach dropped. Darren had to explain the grieving process to me like I was a
child. A process he and his extended family were going through over the same loss
as my boss.
“We were married after we finished our undergrad. When I went to Harvard, she came
with me and got a job, working while I attended classes. It was a bit of a strain,
as I know you are aware law school is, but we made it through. After Harvard, we moved
to Indianapolis and found a house and talked about children. Grace always wanted a
big family,” he said, his shoulders slumping while he fingered through the box. “Four
miscarriages. She made it to the end of the first trimester only once, and it was
ripped away.”
Thoughts about having children had never crossed my mind before the dream, so to even
think about wanting them and then losing them was lost on me.
“When she finally made it to the second trimester with her fifth pregnancy, my trial
of Via Marconi ended. In all my bravado, I failed to recognize the danger I put my
family in. I managed a conviction of a Marconi family member, something that had never
happened before. Not only that, it was the daughter of the head member of the family.
All the time away from my wife and the nights without sleep, working eighty plus hour
weeks while I gathered as much information on them as I could, paid off in the end.”
I remembered that trial. Young, hotshot prosecutor had done the impossible, they said.
“Rising star,” they called him.
“Vincent Marconi wasn’t too pleased, and I gloated in his face,” he said through clenched
teeth. “Fucking stupid.”
I couldn’t think of anything to say, so I slipped my fingers in his, giving him any
comfort I could.
“It was about two weeks after my birthday that we went to Grace’s parents’ house for
a combination Father’s Day and my belated birthday
me. He helped prop me up against the headboard, making sure my leg was elevated and
then he headed out to the kitchen, returning with a glass of water that he placed
on the night stand next to me.
“I’ll be right back,” he said, and I nodded.
In his absence, my eyes drifted around the room. Nothing had changed, but so much
had. I waited in silence, not moving. Moving was painful.
It didn’t take long for him to return, and when he did, he was carrying a wooden chest
about half the size of the carry-on sized suitcase he rolled in behind him.
He climbed on the bed next to me—the box was in his hand and his eyes were locked
on the clasp. I heard him swallow hard, and the butterflies in my stomach multiplied.
That was what Darren had been talking about.
“I h-haven’t opened this in over three years.”
“What’s in it?” I asked in a whisper.
His hand moved over the lid, his voice a whisper. “Ghosts.”
With trembling hands he flicked the clasps and tilted it back, opening the contents
to the world.
My jaw dropped when my eyes landed on the picture that lay on top. It was the first
thing I noticed because I recognized the photo in question. It resided in Jack Holloway’s
office. Well, most of it did. Jack had hidden the third person in the picture. It
wasn’t only his daughter and him; it included Nathan.
“That’s Grace Holloway, Jack’s daughter.”
“Yes,” he agreed and swallowed hard once more, “but, her gravestone reads Grace Thorne.”
My eyes snapped to his. “Oh, my God.”
“There are a few at the office who know, those who have been around long enough. They
know, but have been asked not to say anything about it.”
I couldn’t speak. Shock shut my mind down.
Things Jack said came back to my mind. I was still new when his daughter had died
in an accident. He had grieved heavily for her, and I remembered being confused by
some of his behavior due to my own experiences with my dad.
I remembered talking to Dr. Morgenson about my boss’s behavior.
My stomach dropped. Darren had to explain the grieving process to me like I was a
child. A process he and his extended family were going through over the same loss
as my boss.
“We were married after we finished our undergrad. When I went to Harvard, she came
with me and got a job, working while I attended classes. It was a bit of a strain,
as I know you are aware law school is, but we made it through. After Harvard, we moved
to Indianapolis and found a house and talked about children. Grace always wanted a
big family,” he said, his shoulders slumping while he fingered through the box. “Four
miscarriages. She made it to the end of the first trimester only once, and it was
ripped away.”
Thoughts about having children had never crossed my mind before the dream, so to even
think about wanting them and then losing them was lost on me.
“When she finally made it to the second trimester with her fifth pregnancy, my trial
of Via Marconi ended. In all my bravado, I failed to recognize the danger I put my
family in. I managed a conviction of a Marconi family member, something that had never
happened before. Not only that, it was the daughter of the head member of the family.
All the time away from my wife and the nights without sleep, working eighty plus hour
weeks while I gathered as much information on them as I could, paid off in the end.”
I remembered that trial. Young, hotshot prosecutor had done the impossible, they said.
“Rising star,” they called him.
“Vincent Marconi wasn’t too pleased, and I gloated in his face,” he said through clenched
teeth. “Fucking stupid.”
I couldn’t think of anything to say, so I slipped my fingers in his, giving him any
comfort I could.
“It was about two weeks after my birthday that we went to Grace’s parents’ house for
a combination Father’s Day and my belated birthday
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