The sound of the kids show playing on tv drowned Val groans, though she wasn’t really watching. The screen flickered with muted colors, but her mind drifted elsewhere. She lay stretched out on the couch, careful not to move too much. Her body still ached, and the bruises had darkened, her ribs protested with every shallow breath she took. She had learned quickly that stretching, twisting—anything beyond the smallest shift—sent sharp pulses of pain through her torso, fast enough to steal her breath.
The house was quiet. Lucas had been upstairs for a while, and she had no idea what he was doing. Likely something she about his investigation. Reminded of how his room smelled like it was smoked when she mustered her strength to go check on him after hours of not seeing him, and it was not the
