“Looks like the po-po is about to poo-poo his pants,” Mrs. Penny whispered loudly.
“Is this the Beth whose disappearance caused a rift that involved headbutting between Nick and Detective Weber and who was presumed dead until Elanora informed you that she is indeed alive?” Gabe asked as he ceased his rocking.
“That’s me,” Sesame said, raising her arms again. When no one reacted, she dropped them to her sides. “Why aren’t they jumping up and down and hugging me, Riley?”
“I told you it might be a little bit of a shock,” Riley said.
That was putting it mildly.
Nick made a low, wheezy sound like a stepped-on accordion.
Kellen’s mouth was hanging open. Mrs. Penny aimed a piece of pork rind at him. It bounced off his chin, and Burt happily scarfed it off the floor.
“Damn it. Missed,” she muttered, standing up on the couch to get a better angle.
Riley was at a loss. The entire room felt like it was pulsating with shock and confusion, and she was too exhausted and barfy to do anything about it. “Are you okay?” she asked Nick.
He shook his head from side to side and said, “I think so.”
Suddenly Kellen made a gasping noise. His hands flew to his throat.
“Ha! Got one,” Mrs. Penny said with a celebratory fist pump.
“Okay. I think he’s choking,” Riley said, feeling just a tiny bit hysterical. She tried to go to him, but her knees buckled, and she had to settle for collapsing in the chair.
“This really was not the welcome I was expecting,” Sesame pouted.
“I am trained in the Heimlich maneuver.” Gabe jumped out of the rocker. The arms of the chair gave complimentary cracks and fell to the floor.
“Be gentle!” Riley cautioned Gabe.
“It is best if you go limp,” Gabe suggested as he put his enormous arms around Kellen, who was turning a terrifying shade of blue.
“Which way to the kitchen before this lobster wakes up?” Mr. Willicott bellowed from the foyer.
Gabe thrust his closed fists back and up into Kellen’s abdomen.
There was another audible crack, and then the pork rind launched from his throat. They all watched in slow motion as it sailed in a high, graceful arc.
“Nooooo,” Riley moaned as Burt launched himself into the air off a tufted ottoman.
But it was too late.
The dog caught the soggy pork rind in his mouth and swallowed it in triumph before his paws hit the rug.
“What the hell is going on in here?” Josie demanded from the doorway, where she and Brian stared on in a mix of fascination and horror.
10
12:36 p.m., Friday, October 25
Nick poured himself six fingers of bourbon into a Solo cup and drank half of it down.
The burn chased away the fog of shock, bringing the living room back into sharp focus. He stared hard at the single electrical outlet. It was a twenty-foot-by-thirty-foot room with one fucking outlet. It, along with the rest of the damn house, was on the Fix It list he’d been ignoring. The list he’d planned to tackle as soon as he found Beth.
But instead of breaking a witness or tracking down the missing piece of the puzzle and going in guns blazing, a woman claiming to be Beth Weber had waltzed into his house after scaring the shit out of him by abducting his girlfriend.
It had been a fucking day, and it was barely after noon.
