Page 57 of With Spite

“I also have a worry that I have to bring up with my FBI friends,” I said as I pulled out my phone. “Don’t freak out.”

She frowned and wrapped the blanket tighter around her, bringing her feet up to tuck underneath the blanket, too.

She watched as I dialed the number and put it on speakerphone to rest on the edge of the bed while I packed up a few things for the night.

“Hux, what’s up, buddy?”

“Griffin, Wolf nearby?”

“Sitting at the desk next to me. What’s up?”

I spoke my worries aloud.

“My friend, Bernice. She said that she saw her mom went missing three weeks ago. Do you think that it could be related to the other missing women?”

Bernice sucked in a deep breath so swift that I practically felt the oxygen leave my lungs.

My eyes met hers as Griffin said, “Huh. Let me look into it. What’s the name?”

“Bessie Ross,” I answered for her.

Bernice’s brows lifted, surprised that I knew it.

“I’ll see what I can find. I’ll slip this name through the grapevine to the case director.”

Then he was hanging up, leaving me to look at Bernice, who was wearing a horrified expression on her face.

Her breathing was quick, and I dropped down to my knee beside the bed and reached for her throat with my hand.

“Slow down,” I urged. “Calm.”

She blinked. “I can’t just calm down.” She threw her arms wide, her fingernails clipping me along the neck as she did. “No woman in the history of women has ever calmed down when you tell them to calm down, Huxley. They get angrier. And more uncalm!”

My lips were fucking twitching as I tried to restrain my smile.

“You’ll have to,” I said. “Because you took the extra inhaler I had here for you.”

She tilted her head, her arms dropping, one hand coming down onto my shoulder and the other falling to her lap. Her breathing slowed slightly. “Why did you have an extra inhaler here for me?”

“Your brother thought it best to have one just in case,” I lied smoothly.

I wanted one here in case you ever needed it. I don’t ever want to see you needlessly suffer.

Her frown softened. “Oh.”

“Now, tell me what you’re thinking,” I urged.

“What makes you think that my mom’s disappearance has anything to do with the serial killer?” she asked. “Maybe it’s just her druggie self doing what she does best…drugs.” She clenched her hand onto my shirt. “I made no apologies when I let the world know that I hated her. Hell, everyone that looks into me will know that I just about killed her once. Maybe I did it.”

When Creed had been sent to prison, Bernice had done her level best to get him free. She’d petitioned judges. Hired lawyers. Private investigators. Investigated herself. She petitioned outside the courthouse. Congress.

Hell, she’d been on every front-page news article in the country. Even some national news stations, too.

Her face and her stance on all things Creed-related was well known to everyone in the world.

Even in the middle of Iraq, I’d seen her on the news.

That was when I’d fallen for her.