Field of Bones by Gray C.R. & Ryan L.T

Author:Gray, C.R. & Ryan, L.T. [Gray, C.R. & Ryan, L.T.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Liquid Mind Media
Published: 2025-01-14T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 19

I clicked my phone off and stared out the windshield.

That was all I could do.

Daisy had done nothing wrong that night. She did as anyone in her situation would have. There was no way she could have saved that girl, just as there was no way she could save herself.

But the weight of the girl’s words—how could you—the sound of her screams, the absolute helplessness they both felt, was a burden I could not imagine carrying.

Simply reading the story had punched a hole through the center of my chest. Imagining—not even knowing—how that must’ve felt brought tears to my eyes and solidified a lump the size of a fist in my throat.

All I could do was stare out the window at the trees ahead on the back road.

We were parked now. The next witness lived at the top of the driveway thirty feet to my left. Torres told us he was stopping for coffee on the way here, that he’d grab us some, and I had never been so grateful for the delay.

What I wanted more than anything was to find Daisy.

But if I spoke right now, moved, looked at anything besides those trees that framed the blacktop, I would crumble. I would fall apart.

This was worse than Eric Oakley. Deluca was more prolific, more volatile. Even more sick and twisted. Evil.

That wasn’t what made it worse.

This was worse because there was written proof of exactly how the victim felt through her experience. This was knowing, practically watching, the worst moments she had likely ever lived through. It was knowing that she was real, that she was human, and she was still out there.

It was knowing that every day, she feared she would be the girl in that cell.

It was knowing the fate of the girl in that cell.

A case was an envelope of evidence that pointed us to the perpetrator. This case was so much more.

Harper had said I was too close to it. My question was, how could I not be?

A few minutes ago, while the chapter had still been playing, Harper had put the car in park. She’d sniffled and cleared her throat a few times.

How could she be any farther from this than I was?

Bentley was my obvious physical tether to the case. I wouldn’t deny that.

But no one with a heart could read through this book, this moment-by-moment account of torture and suffering, and stay far from it. Anyone with an ounce of decency who read these words was close to this case.

There were two problems with getting too close to a case: One, failing to see every angle of it; and two, grieving the victim as if they were your own friend or family, should you lose them.

The former was not a problem. I had not overlooked any pieces of evidence. There was not a single document, a single word, that I had overlooked.

The latter… well, maybe this was why I was better as a private investigator than a cop. Maybe this was why Harper had her detective shield, and I never would.

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