“Halling! Good, you’re here. We got some tips in about Andrew.” Paige slid over a stack of tips, and just from a glance, Grace could tell they hadn’t even been gone through for the first round of weeding, which meant she would have to do it. Whatever Paige had been doing in her office all morning, Grace had not a clue as to what it could be.

  Grace barely acknowledged Paige, diving straight into the tips. She was able to eliminate over three-quarters of them as she went. The last quarter were the ones that stumped her, and she spent a good two hours on the phone calling about them, eliminating all but two. She sent uniformed officers to check them out.

  Paige sat next to her, plopping down a takeout meal while she dug into her own. “How’s it going?”

  Grace pressed her lips together hard. Everything she was doing here she could have done at home. There was no emergency that Paige insisted she come in for. Yes, if the case went on too long with no advancements, then the Federal Bureau of Investigation would come in and work with them before taking it over, but there was still time before that might happen. Besides, the extra help might be useful.

  “This case is slow. There are literally no clues. Someone came in—she let them in—they stabbed her, took the baby and ran. No immediate family member has the baby, and it is so rare for a kidnapping like this to happen with a stranger, but we’re going to be forced to look in that direction soon.”

  Paige nodded. “Boyfriends?”

  “She didn’t have one.” Grace sighed, building the fajita Paige had bought her before shoving it in her mouth. “She dated. But no one at the time of her death that we know of.”

  “There’s got to be something.”

  “There’s nothing. That’s what I’m telling you. Whoever did this is like a ghost. There’s no contact with random people she didn’t know. Yes, she considered adoption briefly, but that didn’t last long and didn’t get further than a talk with a social worker. Her finances were in order. She even had the DNA test Jonas insisted she get to prove he was the baby daddy in her kitchen ready to be mailed back.”

  “Think he could have killed her in order to prevent her from mailing that in?”

  “And done what with the baby? Killed him? It’s possible, Paige, but I don’t get that sense from him. You’re thinking too much like a homicide detective.”

  Paige snorted. “Always suspect the spouse, kid. Most often it’s them who did it.”

  Grace sighed and took another large bite of her fajita. It was warm, good, and just what she needed. Paige and she had worked well together at one time, and this was very reminiscent of that. Yet, Grace still felt this underlying tension they had never been able to resolve, the tension of Paige’s growing crush on her and Grace’s refusal.

  “I’ll look into him again. Link and I can go over it Monday. I’m not coming in tomorrow, Paige.”

  “Fine.”

  Grace pursed her lips. “And don’t forget next weekend I’m not coming in Saturday. Santa’s at the mall, and I signed up for it.”

  “All day.”

  “Every year. You know that.”

  Paige groaned. “Don’t remind me. Once was enough.”

  Grace smirked at that. The one time she had convinced Paige to go with her had been enough for the both of them. It was much better if Paige stayed at the office or home. She was not a people person but definitely not a kid person. It wasn’t much longer until Paige’s phone rang in her office. She vanished behind the door.

  When Grace was alone again, the tension eased from her chest. She had to get that under control, and she had to figure out a way to get Paige back on track with the way they used to be. Telling her no wasn’t getting them anywhere, it seemed, so it might just take a report being filed up IAB. Grace finished her fajita and turned back to her computer to double check everything with Jonas, like Paige had suggested, before she moved on to the next suspect to look at. She still felt as though she were blinding fumbling in the dark when it came to this case.

  Hundreds of interviews, hundreds of hours watching security footage, scrolling through phone, texts, email records, and there was no connection to Felicia and someone who may have taken Andrew. But they were working under the premise that Andrew was the target. Maybe Paige was right, maybe killing Felicia was the purpose, and Andrew had already been taken, killed, and dumped. Why the killer would do that, she didn’t know. Why Andrew wouldn’t have just been killed in his crib and left with his mother? No idea. Or even why Andrew was killed at all. No newborn would be able to identify a killer—at least not in conventional ways. Either way, she had loads of work to get done, and since she was there for the day, she might as well get to it.

  ###

  Amya had the kitchen was so spotless that Grace would know something was up when she came home. If she was awake enough to even notice when she got there. Amya abandoned the kitchen, picked up the living room, and then tackled the bathroom. Somewhere in there she had driven Kit to work. By the time she was done with the bathroom, she still hadn’t worked off all of the angry energy she’d hoped.

  What could she do? Grace was stubborn as they could get, and there was no way to convince her to put in for a transfer or file a report. Grace was stuck in her ways, and she was nearly immoveable. Amya had run into that side of her so many times throughout the years, and while she did convince Grace to move sometimes it took years of strategic planning.

  Amya couldn’t be strategic or logical about this. Paige crossed boundary lines in every direction, and Grace just took it. But something had to give, something had to make it stop, and that something might end up having to be Amya. She didn’t want to have to be the one to file the report, but she just might have to. But, God, she didn’t want to.

  Putting all the cleaning supplies away, Amya washed her hands in the kitchen sink and collapsed into the couch, tears in her eyes. She grabbed hold of the pillow and held it to her chest, holding back the tears that wanted to spill over her cheeks. She had done so much crying lately, so much raging, so much cursing the situation she found herself in.

  What could she do? She couldn’t control Grace, that was for sure. She didn’t even want to. What Amya wanted was her girlfriend back. She wanted time with Grace, time as a family, the lack of stress, the lack of worrying might happen when she was on shift. What she would give for the days when she worried more about Grace getting hurt than their relationship ending because of one woman.

  “Amya?”

  Turning her cheek, she looked up to see Peter standing in the doorway. Tears streaked down her cheeks, her vision blurring over. He dropped whatever he was holding by the door and rushed to the couch. Wrapping his arms around Amya’s back, he tugged her into his chest and held on tight. Amya sobbed. There was no cure for her jealousy. She’d tried to pray it away so many times, tried to sit in the emotion, tried to distract herself, but it was always there, sitting right in the pit of her belly and waiting to strike.

  “What’s wrong?” Peter whispered, his voice so full of concern.

  How could she tell him, though? How could she confess that their relationship was failing not because of Paige and Grace’s refusal to transfer out of Missing Persons, but her own damn jealously.

  “Amya, tell me. What happened? Is it Grandma? Grandpa?”

  She shook her head. “No, no, it’s nothing like that.”

  Sniffling, Amya wiped her nose. She drew in a deep breath and tried to get control over herself. It was one thing to lose her shit when the kids weren’t home, but when they were? Peter didn’t need to see this, and he didn’t need to be the one to pick up the broken pieces of her either.

  “I’m fine. Really.”

  “You’re not fine.” Peter took his thumbs and wiped the still falling tears from her cheeks. “What happened?”

  “Nothing happened, to be fair. This is just me having my breakdown.” She snorted. “Did you know at one point I told Grace we couldn’t break down at the same time?”

  He shook his head, still not moving too far from her.

  “Yeah, well, I think if you don’t get back to school soon, you might be witness to it.”

  Peter chuckled wryly. “I have never seen you lose your shit, Amya. You’re the calmest person I know.”

  That at least brought a small smile to her lips. “I do. I’m not perfect, as you have seen from living here no doubt. I can be every bit of a jerk as Grace or anyone else.”

  “Maybe, but you being an ass is limited to scary silent looks.”

  “Is that the mom-look you’re talking about?”

  “Yes. Definitely yes. Kit will agree with me.”

  “I’m sure she will.” Amya tried to move herself away from Peter, but he held on and pulled her in for another hug. This one lasted longer than the first, and when Peter moved away, he glanced toward the kitchen.

  “I see you’ve been cleaning.”

  “It’s Saturday. That’s what we do on the weekend.”

  Peter’s lips pressed together. “Sure, we scrub every surface of this house until it doesn’t exist anymore because it’s so fucking clean.”

  “Language,” Amya muttered. “And shut up.”

  Peter laughed. “You’ve got to get over whatever it is that’s bugging you.”

  Amya sighed. She knew that already, but it had been nearly eighteen months of this feeling living in the pit of her belly and all it had done was grow. She’d attempted to stunt it, and even kill it, and it had gotten her nowhere.

  “Want to talk about it?”

  “Not with you. Thank you for the offer, though.”

  “I get it. You think I don’t have any experience in this arena. That I don’t know what it’s like to feel alone and ditched.”

  Amya’s gaze riveted to Peter’s eyes. She supposed he did have a point, and that was all he saw from the relationship issues between her and Grace. Everyone saw that. It was next to impossible to miss. He hadn’t shown any signs of knowing what the root of the problem was, however. Which, for Amya, was a good sign. They had managed to hide it even from the kids who lived in the house with them.

  “I suppose you do have some experience with that.”

  “I do. My parents? My friends? My ex when I decided to get sober again. I’ve been left so many times I came to expect it until you and Grace.”

  Amya’s mood shifted. She went from dwelling in her jealously to listening to probably the most honest Peter had ever been about his past in all the years she had known him. She gripped his hand and held on tight, encouraging him with silence to continue.

  “I hated it, Amya. I did. Living that way was the worst experience of my life, but you know what it got me? It got me you, a Chaplain, someone I can admire and look up to, someone who shares in that belief with me.”

  She smiled then, and tears welled in her eyes but for a completely different reason.

  “It got me Grace. This bitchy, strong ass woman who never looks back when she makes a decision and who loves with everything she’s got. She loves you Amya. I see that every time she looks at you. But she also loves her work.”

  Snorting, Amya brushed her fingers over her eyes. “She does. I’m her second wife.”

  Peter laughed, shaking his head. “No, you’re her first wife. Her second is definitely work. I think it took her a while to see that.”

  “Maybe.”

  “Feeling better?”

  “A bit. Thank you.” Amya cupped Peter’s cheek.

  “I’ve got just the thing to get you all the way there.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Cookie bake.”

  Amya out right laughed.

  “You have to help me make it.”

  “Fine.” She waved her hand. He jumped up from the couch. Amya followed him into the kitchen, the dogs at their feet as they moved. They were going to destroy her newly cleaned kitchen, but that was the point, wasn’t it? Having family meant things didn’t stay clean. It meant she had to deal with the heartache and pain that came with some conversations and some emotions.

  Peter pulled out all of the ingredients they would need. They chatted aimlessly about him going back to school, studies, Kit, and hopes for the future. Amya kept her own fears at bay, leaving Peter out of that part of the conversation. He didn’t need to know it. He didn’t need to be worried about what might become of them if Amya didn’t figure out how to resolve her own issues.

  Tit for Tat

  The house had been tense all weekend, but they hadn’t had a moment to talk through it. As Grace checked her email Monday morning, she eased into the work week. Although, to be fair, it hadn’t really ended either. She’d successfully worked every weekend for over a month straight.

  She’d gone through as much of the reports and information she’d gotten back over the weekend. Grace had hop-skipped between both her missing persons cases, trying to keep up with them and keep a balanced glance on both of them. She never had a case as big as Andrew’s, and it was so easy for her to get sucked into that one and forget about Leon, but she couldn’t. He deserved her attention as much as anyone else, although he wasn’t a critical missing.

  Not getting anywhere on either of her cases and spinning her wheels was getting to her. She didn’t need Paige’s reminders about working or finding something. The guilt in her chest was already enough. So when the next email she hit was her assignment for Santa day, the smile that lit her lips was welcome.

  She needed that day. After putting in so many hours, sacrificing for her family, she needed the hours of doing something for someone else to relax and soothe her weariness. Grace knew Santa day was the perfect day for that. The whole family was supposed to volunteer actually. How Amya had managed to convince Kit to do it, she had no idea, but she was going to take it. Kit was slowly coming out of her shell and finding her feet. Grace was pretty sure she’d make it.

  Before everything got started on her day and she wouldn’t have any hope of catching Amya, Grace snuck out of her unit and down the hall toward Amya’s office. Santa day had always been something they could share together, ever since that first one Amya had done when she’d started at the Sheriff’s Department three and a half years ago. Perhaps this could be one of those connections that would get rid of the space between them.

  Opening the first set of doors to Amya’s offices, Grace waved at Khloe. “Hey, Khloe.”

  “Hey, Grace! You’re looking much better than the last time I saw you.”

  Guilt twisted in Grace’s stomach. She had been coming less and less, and usually only for specific reasons or quick moments to try and convince Amya to do something for her, like her Friday program. “Yeah, I’ve been slammed with a tough case.”

  “I figured as much.”

  At least Khloe wasn’t in on the fact Amya and she barely saw each other lately, and it wasn’t all because of work. Grace could finally admit that. Grace wasn’t making the family a priority, and that did have to change. She had to find a way to redraw the boundary lines and have more family in her life. Grace plastered a smile on her face, “She got a moment?”

  “The next hour.”

  “Good.” Not hesitating, Grace walked to the farthest door from the front of the offices. She knocked, waited for Amya’s sweet voice to call her to come in, and slipped inside. Shutting the door behind her, Grace’s stomach muscles tightened even more. Even after nearly four years, this woman was still amazing and gorgeous. Grace needed to remind herself of that more often.

  When Amya turned to look up at her from her desk, Grace smiled—genuinely—for the first time in, she couldn’t even remember. Amya had her light brown hair pulled up into a high pony tail, and the lilac colored suit she’d chosen to wear that morning was a statement to who she was—confident, beautiful, close to being one of the higher ups, but someone who could walk lines and did it often.

  “I got my assignment for Saturday.” Grace gave her a smile, trying to ease into the conversation or any conversation. Why was just talking to Amya so hard lately? Everything in their relationship had become difficult.

  Amya sighed. “Do you think you’ll even be able to go?”

  “I told Paige I’m not coming in for anything. I need it. I think we all need it.”

  “I couldn’t agree with you more there.” The underlying snarky tone in Amya’s voice set Grace on edge.

  Here she was, coming to Amya with some sort of weird olive branch, and all she was getting in response was attitude. Maybe their relationship was further gone than she’d thought it was. Grace rubbed her lips together, biding her time to try and figure out how to respond. She could give equal attitude back, but that likely wouldn’t get them anywhere.

  Drawing in a deep breath, Grace held her ground. “I miss you and the kids. I feel like I’m never home anymore, and I think next weekend will be good for us.”

  Amya rolled her eyes. “You feel like you’re not home because you aren’t home. Even if you are, your phone isn’t more than two inches from you and Paige is texting or calling or emailing about something to do with work, drawing you back in.”

  There it was again. That tone. What the hell was Grace supposed to do with that? She was the cause of it, but there was no way they could resolve this issue in one five second conversation about volunteering at the mall. Grace shrugged. “You’re right.”

  “I…of course I’m right.” Amya’s words were vicious. Grace was glad she’d shut the door. “I’m the one who has had to pick up all the slack at the house with zero support from you, but that’s not even the worst part.”

  Grace looked directly into Amya’s crystalline blue eyes. She tried to hold back some of her own snark, but she was pretty sure it snuck in there anyway. “And what is the worst part?”

  Amya stood up, getting right into Grace’s face, so close but not touching. “You.”

  Grace’s heart stuttered. Her voice was surprisingly calm when she spoke. “Me?”