She nodded. “I will. I promise. When I’m ready.”
“Should someone go back in there and tell the dragon lady not to tell anyone that her long-lost daughter is back from the dead?” Nick asked, hooking his thumb at the Weber house.
Sesame shook her head. “She won’t tell anyone.”
* * *
Nick was headedhome with takeout, turning things over in his head, trying to fit puzzle pieces together, when his phone rang.
“What’s up, Jos?”
“Clowns.”
“What about them?”
“Old Lady Esther’s treasured figurines are all clowns,” she snarled.
“I don’t see a problem.”
“Ihateclowns. I hate clowns more than I hate old people. I saw Stephen King’sItat a sleepover in second grade and never recovered. Now you want me to save an old lady’s hideous clown collection from her stupid grandson’s eBay account?”
“You said you wanted to work,” Nick reminded her smugly. “We all have to pay the consequences for our choices.”
“I’ll make you pay for yours, Nicky Santiago.”
“I doubt that.”
He disconnected the call and pulled into his driveway. But instead of getting out, he thought about his own choices and the consequences they could bring.
Reluctantly, he opened his text messages.
Nick: If a stranger with neck tattoos and a shaved head shows up at your office in a couple of weeks, don’t talk to him. Call me. Then call the cops. Same goes for Dad.
Mom: Now what have you done?
Nick: Why do you always think I did something?
Mom: Because you always do something.
14
8:44 a.m., Saturday, October 26
Sesame waved as she strutted out of her brother’s condo building in skintight leggings the color of rhubarb and a matching sweatshirt that looked like it was made out of a real sheep. Her blond hair was pulled back in a high ponytail.
“I feel underdressed,” Blossom said from the rear bench seat.
Riley did too. She also felt exhausted, achy, and still a little bit woozy. But she sensed there was some kind of ticking clock on the whole Sesame situation, and she didn’t have time to waste on recuperating.
“Okay, everyone. Remember the plan,” she said to the rest of the occupants of Wander’s hybrid minivan.
“We are taking Sesame to yoga and not telling Nick,” Gabe recited from the passenger seat.
Riley was relieved that Gabe was going along with the plan. He’d warned her that she was cruising close to psychic burnout, and that if she pushed herself too hard, she could do serious damage. Of course he’d said it in Gabe-ier language, so it had sounded more philosophical.
But she’d been tired and run-down before, and that hadn’t stopped her from solving a murder and saving lives. She could afford to tough this out too. And as long as Nick didn’t find out she’d snuck out of the house shortly after he had gone on “errands,” she figured there would be no harm.
“Good,” Riley said. “Wander?”
