from where she sat—one that had once been decorated in a pea green, flowered, peeling wallpaper half a year before Taylor had renovated it, had had her hands in the work, had touched the walls and wood, floors and ceiling, doors and every inch of the place.
“So, this picture. Who was it?” Emma broke Ian’s reaching thoughts.
“It was old. Faded. Black and white. And … I’d have sworn, I mean hand on the Bible kind of swearing, that it was Ian and—”
“Me?” He shot a glance toward the mantel as if the picture would magically appear.
“And Taylor,” Lexi said.
Dumbstruck, Ian said nothing.
“It had to be a hundred years old by the look of the clothes and the horse-pulled buggy thing, though, so it couldn’t have been either of you. But Taylor has roots here, so, like I said, that leads me to believe those bones are probably an ancestor of hers.”
“So, a cemetery, then.” Ian eyed Tripp. “So, you said you believed Taylor because Lex imagined some bones, which neither of you have seen, and they pointed you to a picture that doesn’t exist anymore?” He knuckled his temple. “How does that make any sense?”
“I’m never wrong when it comes to finding this stuff.” Lexi paused and took a breath, laying a hand on her stomach. “So, what this proves is that Taylor couldn’t have killed that person because she wouldn’t have even been born when they lived.”
“We’re talking a hundred years old, at least,” Tripp said.
“All we have to do, then, is prove those bones are one of her ancestor’s?” Emma’s head cocked to the side.
“Yeah.” Tripp turned toward Lexi, one of his eyebrows up higher than the other. “Want a little adventure tonight?”
She ran her hand up his chest as a yawn broke. “With you? Always.”
She’s tired at two p.m.? “So, you two have the bone acquisition part of our adventure taken care of.”
“I want this off the books, too,” Tripp said. “We’ll find out what we want to find out and then figure out how to legitimize it. I want you to look into Tanner Meadows, Ian.”
For the second time, Ian thought the name held a familiarity not unlike the photos on the wall that Lexi had found in her mental missing persons search. Not only for Taylor, but to satisfy his own ridiculous curiosity, Ian said, “I can do that.” Research had always been his forte; he only hoped he could find out more about the tattoo on his finger.
“Could you have a certain brother do some forensic science magic?” Emma asked.
Ian blinked. “You do know Michael’s going into med school, right? Not morgue work?”
“He’ll have friends who need to pay for med school, right?” Tripp asked.
“Yeah, but—”
“Ooh!” Emma’s eyes brightened. “I just remembered.” Emma pointed toward the wall. “Sherrill has the photos. I’ll give her a call.”
Sherrill. The woman who’s grandparents had lived in Lexi and Tripp’s home before them. The woman who held the key to the beginning of Lexi and Tripp’s relationship—to the unwinnable game that Tripp managed to outwit.
Why does this feel like a lead I don’t want to know about?
• • •
Tripp may have wanted Ian to research Tanner Meadows, but Ian needed to know why, how and what force had tattooed him with a mark that matched the woman who plagued his dreams, his life, his very soul.
At the very least, he needed to detach her since he’d spent countless sums of money trying to get the design off, with no success. He’d tried salt water to fade it. Over the counter removal creams. Even went to a professional laser center, and five thousand dollars later, the lines hadn’t faded a bit. In fact, to Ian’s eye, they’d darkened.
Every search Ian ran pulled up the same information on the markings. No matter the browser, the same sights appeared and reappeared, telling him exactly what he already knew.
Four chances.
He and Taylor seemed to be on the fourth.
The fourth what, though?
Some of the
“So, this picture. Who was it?” Emma broke Ian’s reaching thoughts.
“It was old. Faded. Black and white. And … I’d have sworn, I mean hand on the Bible kind of swearing, that it was Ian and—”
“Me?” He shot a glance toward the mantel as if the picture would magically appear.
“And Taylor,” Lexi said.
Dumbstruck, Ian said nothing.
“It had to be a hundred years old by the look of the clothes and the horse-pulled buggy thing, though, so it couldn’t have been either of you. But Taylor has roots here, so, like I said, that leads me to believe those bones are probably an ancestor of hers.”
“So, a cemetery, then.” Ian eyed Tripp. “So, you said you believed Taylor because Lex imagined some bones, which neither of you have seen, and they pointed you to a picture that doesn’t exist anymore?” He knuckled his temple. “How does that make any sense?”
“I’m never wrong when it comes to finding this stuff.” Lexi paused and took a breath, laying a hand on her stomach. “So, what this proves is that Taylor couldn’t have killed that person because she wouldn’t have even been born when they lived.”
“We’re talking a hundred years old, at least,” Tripp said.
“All we have to do, then, is prove those bones are one of her ancestor’s?” Emma’s head cocked to the side.
“Yeah.” Tripp turned toward Lexi, one of his eyebrows up higher than the other. “Want a little adventure tonight?”
She ran her hand up his chest as a yawn broke. “With you? Always.”
She’s tired at two p.m.? “So, you two have the bone acquisition part of our adventure taken care of.”
“I want this off the books, too,” Tripp said. “We’ll find out what we want to find out and then figure out how to legitimize it. I want you to look into Tanner Meadows, Ian.”
For the second time, Ian thought the name held a familiarity not unlike the photos on the wall that Lexi had found in her mental missing persons search. Not only for Taylor, but to satisfy his own ridiculous curiosity, Ian said, “I can do that.” Research had always been his forte; he only hoped he could find out more about the tattoo on his finger.
“Could you have a certain brother do some forensic science magic?” Emma asked.
Ian blinked. “You do know Michael’s going into med school, right? Not morgue work?”
“He’ll have friends who need to pay for med school, right?” Tripp asked.
“Yeah, but—”
“Ooh!” Emma’s eyes brightened. “I just remembered.” Emma pointed toward the wall. “Sherrill has the photos. I’ll give her a call.”
Sherrill. The woman who’s grandparents had lived in Lexi and Tripp’s home before them. The woman who held the key to the beginning of Lexi and Tripp’s relationship—to the unwinnable game that Tripp managed to outwit.
Why does this feel like a lead I don’t want to know about?
• • •
Tripp may have wanted Ian to research Tanner Meadows, but Ian needed to know why, how and what force had tattooed him with a mark that matched the woman who plagued his dreams, his life, his very soul.
At the very least, he needed to detach her since he’d spent countless sums of money trying to get the design off, with no success. He’d tried salt water to fade it. Over the counter removal creams. Even went to a professional laser center, and five thousand dollars later, the lines hadn’t faded a bit. In fact, to Ian’s eye, they’d darkened.
Every search Ian ran pulled up the same information on the markings. No matter the browser, the same sights appeared and reappeared, telling him exactly what he already knew.
Four chances.
He and Taylor seemed to be on the fourth.
The fourth what, though?
Some of the
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