Wesley’s gaze stayed steady on mine. “No. He shouldn’t.”
The investigation moved faster than I expected and slower than I could stand.
A court-approved paternity test confirmed what everyone already knew: the man who assaulted me was Grace’s biological father.
The test gave law enforcement the legal path to compare against suspects.
I had never seen his face clearly that day in the woods. Just pieces. A red hunting jacket. A class ring. Tobacco on his breath. The scrape of a zipper. A truck engine starting after.
Those scraps felt useless.
Then a deputy asked whether anyone in town had frightened me before. Whether there had been a boy or man who watched too much, followed too close, showed up where he shouldn’t.
A name rose in my throat so fast it made me dizzy.
Cody Mercer.
Seventeen. Senior at the high school. Son of County Commissioner Ray Mercer. He worked part-time at the gas station when it was still open weekends. He used to wink at girls from his truck. Once, when I was walking home from middle school, he slowed beside me and asked if I wanted a ride. I ran. He laughed.
I hadn’t thought of him in months.
Maybe I had forced the memory away because I couldn’t bear the shape it made.
Dana didn’t push.
She just wrote it down.
Within forty-eight hours, police had a warrant for Cody’s DNA.
Within seventy-two, he was in custody.
When they told me, I felt nothing at first.
Then I went to the bathroom and threw up until Elena came in, held my hair back, and handed me a cold washcloth.
Leave a Comment