Broken Grace Read Online Free Page A

big blow to the head. She cracked her ribs and punctured a lung, but she’s okay. She’s going to be fine.” That last bit seemed to be for Grace’s benefit. She vaguely remembered Dr. Roberts warning Lisa to look out for signs of depression.
    Bishop focused on Grace. “I’m really sorry to hear about this, Miss Abbott. But do you remember anything about that morning?”
    Mutely, Grace shook her head.
    “Detective,” Lisa said, “Grace doesn’t remember anything.”
    Hackett leaned forward, eyes intense. “You mean you don’t remember what led to the accident?”
    Grace opened her mouth to speak, but Lisa beat her to it. “She was unconscious for quite a bit. She doesn’t remember anything. She didn’t even remember me. The doctors said she has a traumatic brain injury, a TBI, but they tell us to be hopeful.” She turned to Grace. “We’re just going to get some rest, right, Grace? And it’s all going to come back.” Lisa patted her knee again as if comforting a small child, and Grace stared at the hand, anxious to push it away and run. Her headache was returning.
    Lisa looked back at the officers. “I don’t understand. If you didn’t know about her accident, what’s going on?”
    Grace could feel Bishop’s eyes on her. “We’ve actually been trying to find you for the last few days, Miss Abbott.”
    “Please don’t say that,” she said, keeping her head down.
    “What?” Hackett asked, his tone gentler, less accusatory.
    She met his dark brown eyes. “ Miss Abbott. Will you call me Grace, please? I’m not a librarian.” Hackett looked at his partner, who now sat back, arms crossed, studying her.
    Lisa frowned. “It’s a side effect. The doctor said she might be a little off. Maybe irritable.” Her black nails tapped Grace’s knee. “It’s okay. Grace, it’s okay.”
    She wanted to jump out of her skin. Except it hurt to think about jumping. “Just tell me why you’re here already.”
    Bishop’s eyes narrowed. “This is about Michael Cahill,” he said, watching her response.
    “What about Michael?” Lisa asked. “Is he in trouble?”
    Grace hugged herself, feeling chilled. “Who’s Michael Cahill?”
    “Michael is your ex-boyfriend, remember?” Lisa said.
    “Ex?” Bishop sat forward, arms uncrossing.
    Both Lisa and Grace answered, “Yes.”
    “But it appears that you and Mr. Cahill live together in Harbert.”
    “I thought I lived here?” Grace turned to Lisa.
    “You do, Grace. Now, anyway. But the officers aren’t wrong. You only asked to move in a week ago. It was last Friday night.”
    “Why?” she asked.
    “I . . . don’t really know. You were just really upset, you said it was over with Michael, and you asked to move in here. You ran up to your old room, so I let you be. I figured we could talk in the morning.”
    “What time was this?” Hackett asked.
    “I don’t know.” Lisa shrugged. “Maybe ten o’clock. I don’t really remember.”
    “Did Grace tell you in the morning what had happened with Michael?” Bishop asked.
    “I never had the chance to ask. She was up and gone in the morning, and then she got in that terrible accident.”
    Grace sat forward as if she could take back some control of the situation, of a life that made no sense to her. “What is this all about? Is he in trouble?”
    The two men glanced at each other again. “No,” Bishop answered. “Mr. Cahill is not in trouble. I’m afraid he’s dead.”
    Grace focused on that word: dead . She began picturing dead people. A casket. A funeral. A man being shot off a horse in an old western. Dozens of men in confederate uniforms lying dead in a field.
    “My God!” Lisa said, her alarm puncturing Grace’s mental tangent. “What happened?”
    Bishop ignored her. “Miss Abbott? Grace?”
    Grace finally returned her focus to Bishop, watching his mouth as he spoke.
    “We’re still trying to figure it out. He didn’t show up for work on Monday, so one of his coworkers went to