Her jaw dropped. “There’s more than one?”
“Kidding,” he promised, taking the tongs and digit from her. “Can you grab me a freezer bag and a pair of gloves?”
“Isn’t it a little late to be worried about contaminating evidence now?” she asked dryly.
“Funny,” he called after her.
Burt tentatively wandered over and eyed the finger.
“Don’t even think about it, bud,” Nick warned.
Riley returned with several different-sized bags and two pairs of gloves. “We might have a problem,” she said, pulling on one of the pairs of gloves.
“Yeah. Someone sent a fucking finger to our house.”
“In addition to that. Tommy’s gone. He went out the window in the bathroom.”
Nick swore under his breath and bagged the finger.
Then he went to check the bathroom. Someone had tiled the whole room from floor to ceiling in Cookie Monster–blue tiles. That same someone had decided a pea-soup green sink and toilet were just what the room needed. The window above the toilet was indeed open.
“Damn it,” he muttered before closing and locking the window.
He returned to the foyer and found Riley reading the paperwork that had accompanied the finger. “He’s definitely gone. What’s that?”
“It looks like some kind of NDA,” she said. “There’s a copy signed by Sesame and one signed by Tommy.”
“Great. So someone wanted to send the message that snitches don’t get stitches, they get their fingers cut off.”
Riley shuddered. “And now they know where we live. You wanna lock all the doors and windows while I call the cops?”
Nick shook his head. “We can’t call the cops.”
“Nick, there’s afingerin afreezer bag.”
“Yeah, a finger addressed to the woman who’s supposed to be dead.”
“I think we’ve given Sesame enough time to plan her big coming-out party. Finger trumps party.”
“What about Weber’s career? His missing sister came back to life, appears to be involved in some dangerous shit, and he didn’t bother telling anyone at work. That could get him suspended. Or worse.”
Riley ran a hand over Burt’s head and down his long spine. “Crap. He’s already so mad at her. If he gets fired because of Sesame, Kellen will never forgive her.”
“Bingo, baby. Besides, if he gets fired, I’m the one who’s going to have to hire his tight ass. He’ll drive me insane, and eventually I’ll have to take him out and bury him at your mom’s relatives’ commune.”
“Nice catastrophizing,” she said, sounding impressed.
“Thank you.”
“So what do we do?”
“We call Weber and let him decide.”
Riley winced. “Yeah. I picked up the finger. You get to call hungover Kellen.”
30
8:10 a.m., Tuesday, October 29
