“Well, would you like some coffee, Scott?” Mom asks.
“No, but thank you. I have to head out.”
I’m more than ready for the awkward moment to end when a bedroom door opens, and Monet sails out and straight up to me. Tossing her arms around my neck, she speaks too loudly.
“Thank God! I thought they weren’t going to let you go!”
“You knew? You acted like you didn’t know anything about why Laurel wasn’t calling us back. And why would you think the police would keep your sister? She’s never the one in trouble.” My dad is a great chemical engineer, but he would’ve made an even better lawyer.
“Um, I didn’t know. I, uh, just found out. Hey, Trick, how are you?” My sister pushes her ombré hair over her shoulder. It’s a style that’s time has passed, but she often gets stuck in unfortunate loops.
“I’m good, Monet. How about you?”
“Yeah, great,” she says, chewing on her lower lip and shifting her weight from foot to foot. She’s been clean for weeks, but she suddenly looks like she’s got the nervous energy of someone who’s freshly quit.
“I heard you’ve been staying here awhile. Did you sublet your place? Or move out?”
My feet feel like they’re made of lead. Why does Trick know how long Monet’s been out of her place? She did rehab in Connecticut, but people were told she was in Manhattan taking design courses.
Monet bounces on the balls of her feet. “Yeah, moved out. I’ve been exploring my options and having that rent was a killer.” Shrugging, she tosses her hair again. “Not for someone like you, but for me.” She frowns and there are lines on her pretty face. At the moment, fresh out of rehab, she’s fifteen pounds too thin, so her face looks older than twenty-two.
“Hmm. You’ve probably made a lot of new friends,” Trick says, and my stomach drops because he’s encroaching on things I don’t want him to know.
Also, I suddenly realize Scott is not here as Scott. He’s here as Trick, investigating my life and my family.
Monet shifts her weight and chews her lip some more. “Not really.”
“I’m putting on a pot of coffee,” Mom says.
Trick looks at his Rolex. “You know, I’ve got a few minutes.”
“Good, good.” She disappears to the kitchen.
Monet looks after her like she’d like to leave too. I wish she would.
A knock on the front door startles both me and my sister, making us jerk. She laughs at herself. I do not laugh.
Trick steps aside to let my dad open the door, but his hand disappears inside his jacket. I’m frozen. Could someone armed, someone like Enzo Palermo, start a gunfight with Trick at my parents’ house right now?
Fortunately, the armed someone at the door isn’t a criminal. It’s Milt. He nods at my dad and smiles, the awning casting dark shadows on his face. My dad opens the screen door and extends a hand.
“Milt, haven’t seen you in a while. Come in.” My dad’s open smile makes my heart sink. He has no idea how Milt treated me, or the danger he put me in. He only knows Milt as an FBI agent I dated.
Color drains from Monet’s face, and she retreats down the hall.
Trick’s expression never changes, but his gaze tracks Monet for a couple of beats before swiveling back to Milt. Why couldn’t Trick have left a few minutes earlier? And why is Milt here at all? We had an agreement, which is over now actually, broken on both sides.
“John, good to see you too. Sorry about the circumstances.” Milt has a plastic bag in one hand and holds it out to me. “Since you didn’t want to wait for your clothes to be pulled from forensics yesterday, I figured I’d bring them by.”
Oh, my God. What a bastard. I’m careful to not look directly at Trick or at Milt as a flush creeps up my neck to my face. And what’s in the bag? Just underwear? The dress and shoes were borrowed.
I take the bag, mostly so no one else will.
Brows drawing together, my dad looks at the bag. “It was an FBI raid? That sounds more serious than I thought. Milt, did you have to intervene on Laurel’s behalf, son?”
Son?I want to throw up. And my gaze, against my will, goes to Trick’s face. His expression’s neutral, the sea blue eyes steadily watching the exchange.
“I wish I’d had the opportunity. I guess Laurel didn’t tell you things have changed?”
