“Is it Ricardo?”
“Hard to tell from this distance.”
Britt shuffled through the sheets of paper on Ricardo that Nora had printed for them and found Ricardo’s most recent mug shot. She squinted toward the figure gardening in the yard. “I think that might be him. This street seems perfectly normal, by the way. Maybe we should approach him in his yard. It’s public enough.”
“For now, let’s stay in the car like we planned.”
They sat, watching the man garden. Gentle sunlight sloped over them, then hid as bands of clouds passed by. Neighbors walked dogs. Others peddled down the road on bikes. Some pushed strollers along the sidewalks. Every resident of Maple Valley seemed eager to take advantage of the sixty-two degree weather.
The setting possessed no whiff of danger. In fact, the only people on the street receiving nervous glances were him and Britt. They looked conspicuous, sitting in a parked car, doing nothing.
As the clock ticked off the passage of time, Britt’s nearness began to feel more threatening than did a conversation with Ricardo. Every time Zander inhaled, he drew the scent of blackberries into his lungs. He could perceive the energy lacing her muscles and tendons. Her hand relaxed on the center console. Just inches away, his own hand burned with the desire to interlace their fingers.
“If we wait,” Britt said, “and Ricardo goes inside, it could be hours before he leaves the house again.”
“True.”
“I really don’t think he’s going to murder us on his front lawn or try to shove us inside his house so he can murder us there. At the moment, he mostly seems interested in pulling weeds and planting annuals.”
“Let’s go talk to him.”
“Really?” She sent him an alert, expectant look.
He nodded. “Remember that we’re going to use the names we decided on.”
“Right. I’m Adele.”
“And I’m Caleb and our last name is Kingston.” He’d decidedto keep it simple by using his parents’ first names and his middle name, Kingston. “We live in Seattle.”
“Got it.”
“We’re not going to mention Carolyn or Courtney or Sarah or Merryweather or anything that might allow him to locate us. We’re also not going to mention the Triple Play, because if he was involved, we don’t want him knowing that we’re hunting for clues.”
“Deal.” She exited the car in a flash.
Zander hurried to catch up with her. “Frank’s my uncle, so I’m going to take the lead.”
The breeze snapped a strand of her hair. “I’ll do my best to practice restraint.”
“You have the ability to be restrained, you know. You exercise it every time you flavor chocolate.”
“I have to. Too much of anything will ruin the recipe.”
“This meeting we’re about to have with Ricardo is like that.”
The sun highlighted pale glints of laughter in her brown eyes. “Are you suggesting that too much of me will ruin this meeting?”
He allowed himself a grin. “You said it. Not me.”
They’d almost reached the walkway leading to Ricardo’s front door. “I admire the fact that you’re speaking to me in chocolate metaphors, by the way,” she said.
“I can’t create chocolate, but I can be trusted with chocolate metaphors.”
“You probablycouldcreate chocolate. You know a lot about it.”
“Not that much.”
“More than any other non-chef I know. Why is it that you learned so much about it?”
