We've been on the road for nearly two days now, and we decide to make a stop in St. Louis, Missouri. The weather is warmer here, a welcome change that allows me to finally shed the jacket I've been wearing for the past week. As we walk to the front of the hotel, the sun shines on my face. It's getting close to 5:00 PM, and the days are growing longer, with Daylight Savings Time just a few weeks away.
Our hotel room has two queen beds, light blue plush carpeting, and crème-colored walls. Large portraits of floral bouquets hang over both beds, giving the room a cozy atmosphere. The sight of the large flat-screen TV is inviting. I haven't had the chance to watch anything for a few days, and the idea of enjoying some room service and a light-hearted movie sounds perfect.
Brock graciously lets me choose a movie while he orders our food. About twenty minutes later, a server knocks on our door, and I welcome him in. He wheels a cart over and unveils the dishes, and steam billows out of the garlic-herb salmon I ordered. The aroma is mouthwatering. Brock opts for another medium-rare steak, and we both dig in while watching one of my all-time favorite movies, "Somewhere in Time." It turns out to be more emotional than I expected, and I find myself dabbing my eyes, a reaction that happens every time I watch it. After dinner, I decide to take a relaxing bath in the jetted tub. It's the first time in four days that I've had the luxury of soaking in a tub, and the hot water soothes my tired body. I notice that the swelling in my ankle has subsided, replaced by a yellowish bruise, which is a welcome change from the angry red and purple hues of a few days ago.
After my bath, I crawl into bed. Brock is busy browsing on his phone. He furrows his brows.
"How was your bath?" he asks.
"Heavenly. I feel like a human again," I reply. I glance over at his phone. "What are you looking at?" I can see concern etched in his features, and his eyes reflect sadness.
"The local news. While we've been away, there was a home invasion in Grantsville." My heart suddenly skips a beat and starts racing.
"Is it...?"
"No," he hesitates. "But, it's Leah and Trevor's home."
"What?" I gasp and clutch my chest. "Are they okay?"
"Fortunately, they weren't home when it happened, but their place was ransacked, Trice. It was as if they were..."
I finish his sentence. "Looking for something."
"Yeah. The police report says nothing was stolen, but drawers were turned out, clothes were strewn around, beds were overturned, and cabinets were emptied. When Leah and Trevor returned home, it looked like a tornado had hit."
"Why would they target their home and not ours?" I ponder the question for a moment before answering my own query. "Because Gray's police force is patrolling our house."
"Most likely. It does take the heat off our home, but it makes me wonder if someone was also snooping around our property while the others were ransacking Leah and Trevor's place."
"That does make sense," I mumble, lost in thought about my best friend's home being violated due to my involvement in Troy's murder. Another victim left in my wake.
Tears well up in my eyes, and Brock looks over at me when he hears me sniffling.
"Hey, it's not your fault. Come here." I move closer to Brock, and he envelops me in his arms, comforting me while I let out months of pent-up emotions. He rubs my back, and when it's all out, a sense of relief washes over me, and I fall asleep, cradled in his arms like a moth in its cocoon.
The next morning, I wake up, and it's still dark. Hotels have those thick curtains that block out most of the light, even if it's morning. I check the time on my wrist, and it reads 6:47 AM. We usually wake up early and hit the road by 8:00, so I gently nudge Brock, and he stirs from his slumber.
"Good morning, sleepyhead," he says, bending over to kiss my cheek. I can't recall when I fell asleep last night, but it was earlier than usual.
It's close to 8:00 when we resume our journey. Brock mentioned it would take one more day of driving to reach Utah if we drive for 9 hours today. The closer we get to home, the more anxiety wells up within me. However, as the unease intensifies, a surge of anger takes its place. Jeff has made us fearful in our own home, the one place meant to be a sanctuary. Now, he's entangled our dearest friends in this mess. I can't and won't let him win.
Throughout the day, Brock and I take turns driving. We listen to podcasts, and I steal a nap while he takes the wheel, and vice versa, with him resting when it's my turn to drive. It's nearly 5:00 PM when we pull into another hotel in a small Colorado city. The temperature has dropped as we're now in the Rocky Mountains, so I put my jacket back on. This is our last stop before returning to Utah. The skies are overcast, and it appears as though snow might be on the horizon, but we decide to go for a walk around the area after checking in. Stretching our legs and regaining feeling in them feels great, even if there isn't much to see around us.
Next to the hotel is a charming restaurant where we decide to have dinner. It's a significant departure from our previous dining experiences, exuding a higher level of quality. As we walk in, the first thing that catches my eye is a giant moose head mounted above the reception counter. The restaurant is designed to resemble a cozy cabin, with dark brown logs stacked atop each other. Portraits of hunters and their trophies adorn the walls, and a large sign above the moose head proudly declares: "Serving Colorado and its Visitors since 1954."
The food here is delightful, and the bread pudding is moist and flavorful, accompanied by a rich caramel sauce with subtle notes of nutmeg and cinnamon. The comfortable benches and the solid wood table with a swirl design carved into it complete the charming atmosphere.
Following dinner, we decide to see if there's a movie theater in town. We feel like we deserve a night out without fear and anxiety. Ten minutes from our hotel, we spot a small theater playing the latest blockbuster that I've been wanting to see. We stop and grab tickets. It's a Friday night, and the place is buzzing with energy. It may not be a massive multiplex, but it's clean and welcoming.
We crawl into bed after 10:00 PM. I slip under the cool comforter and rest my head on the soft pillow. In just a few minutes, I close my eyes and don't wake up until morning, which is unusual for me, as I'm usually up at least once during the night As I navigate through the dark hotel room, the inevitability of age becomes all too apparent when that late-night urge, affectionately known as the "pee alarm," disrupts my deep slumber. Make no mistake, it's an annoyance, but it's a fact of life I've come to accept without complaint.
The morning's arrival brings a serene sight of icy blue skies as I gaze out of the window at the hotel's restaurant. Sunlight bathes the crème-colored ceramic table where we're seated. The room is bustling with people, partaking in the hearty offerings of the continental breakfast – a sumptuous spread of eggs, hash browns, bacon, sausage, pancakes, orange juice, coffee, and hot chocolate. It's a buffet-style breakfast, allowing us to indulge to our heart's content. With a satisfied appetite, I am reinvigorated for the day ahead.
Upon returning to the car, Brock good-naturedly accentuates the aftermath of our meal, sticking out his stomach and giving it a playful pat. "I'm stuffed."
I respond with a chuckle, "It's your food belly, hon."
He humorously feigns offense by deflating his stomach and delivering a lighthearted quip, "Way to burst my bubble. Haha, get it?"
Smiling, I retort, "Yeah, dear, I get it." We continue our journey, reminiscing about the times before the responsibilities of kids, grandkids, careers, and life's complexities took hold. The clock inches toward 7:00 PM as we reach Salt Lake City, and while the city lights warm my heart, I can't shake the lingering apprehension about returning home. Gray's silence adds to my unease. Perhaps Jeff hasn't arrived here, or maybe he's merely biding his time.
Upon our arrival in town, I send a text to Gray, learning that Officer Lopez will be there to meet us. Driving down our street, I'm struck by the sight of snow piled high on both sides of the road, creating an eerie, hushed atmosphere. As we approach Leah and Trevor's residence, my heart aches at the sight of yellow crime tape surrounding their property.
Pulling into our driveway, our home appears frozen in time, unaltered. A squad car rests at the curb, and Officer Lopez emerges, opening the back door for Herc. He tugs at his leash, knowing his pack is back.
As we step into the house, Herc leaps up and initiates a joyful chorus of barking, his tail wagging furiously. It's incredible how dogs manage to communicate with us, especially when they're expressing their disapproval of our absence.
Herc lays down and rolls over on his back, inviting me to scratch his belly. "Hey buddy, I missed you," I say as he pants and showers my hand with affection. Brock kneels and joins in, scratching Herc's ears.
Officer Lopez instructs us to remain in place while she investigates the house. She, along with her fellow police officers, had been patrolling the premises and hadn't observed any unusual activity. I ponder the situation, noting the recent burglary at Leah and Trevor's across the street.
I voice my thoughts, "Yes, but my best friend's home was burglarized."
Officer Lopez responds, "Yes, and thankfully they weren't home and didn't lose anything."
I quickly connect the dots, "They must be searching for the ring."
"Likely. Stay here while I inspect the house."
After her thorough check, Officer Lopez returns to the living room. "Clear. Everything is secure, but remain vigilant for any unusual sounds. Don't take unnecessary risks – contact me."
I reassure her, "No worries. After the week we've had, I don't want to create more problems. After nearly being killed by drugs, I want to do whatever it takes to apprehend Jeff."
I share a revelation, one that neither she nor Gray is aware of. "Officer, when we were at Jeff's place, Brock uncovered some files on his computer. They prove he paid Grant's accomplices $10,000 each, and Grant received $20,000 for the killing."
Officer Lopez's interest is piqued, "Really? Did you capture any evidence?"
I sigh with disappointment, "He did, but Jeff erased them while we were bound. We believed Gray could still extradite him for questioning, especially after the attempt on our lives."
She nods thoughtfully, "Let's see if he shows up here. If he perceives you as his greatest threat, he might come after you."
I concur, "Yes, that's what we anticipated. Or he might delegate one of his associates to do it for him, given that they reside here."
Grant may be behind bars for Troy's murder but the situation is clear: the individuals who concealed Troy's remains are now out on bail, and the sole piece of evidence that could potentially bring them to justice is the ring.
We must locate it.
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