The letter wasn’t signed, dated, or otherwise marked.
“Well?” Jean leaned toward me. I folded the letter and tucked it back in the envelope.
“I’m not going to lie to you, but I can’t tell you what the letter says.”
“Like hell you can’t.”
“Tell me instead,” Crow suggested.
“No.”
The silence in the room would have been comical if I didn’t know just how annoyed I had made Jean.
“Is it about the murder?” she asked, no more humor in her voice.
“I’m not going to do twenty questions with you too.”
“Is it?”
“No. And that’s all I’ll say.”
“Is it from your boyfriend?” Crow asked.
“I don’t have a boyfriend.”
That, apparently, was top-quality comedy right there and Crow laughed himself silly. When he finally got done and focused on me again, his mirth turned to surprise. “Oh, come on. Have you forgotten Ryder Bailey? Your boyfriend?”
“We’re not dating and we’re not going to date.” That sounded firm. Sounded sure. It didn’t matter if I secretly wasn’t so sure it was the truth.
“You two have been dating since eighth grade.” He held up one hand to stop me from arguing. “Walking each other to class, showing up at the same birthday parties, helping each other with school projects, and let’s not forget those long looks when you didn’t think the other was looking.” He made a kissy face while batting his eyes.
“We weren’t dating. We were kids.”
“You joined the volley ball team just so you could see him outside the locker room when he was warming up for baseball practice.”
My eyes went wide. I’d never told anyone that. There was no chance that I’d been that obvious about Ryder. “I joined volleyball because I liked the game.”
“Because the games gave you a chance to see Ryder sweaty without his shirt on.”
“Who told you that?”
Jean snorted.
“Like anyone had to tell me?” Crow smiled again, but this time it was more the smile of an uncle who had known me since I was born. “Delaney, you’ve always loved him. Maybe as a friend for a while. But as you got older, it was a different kind of love.”
I gave him what I hoped was a piercing glare. “What do you know about love?”
“So very many things,” he said in a way that carried the years of his life that were far from mortal. “Enough to know he loves you too.”
“If you think he loves me, why haven’t you ever told me that before?”
“Hello? Trickster god. It’s a lot more fun to watch you two crazy kids bumble around and try to figure it out on your own.”
This time Jean laughed. “Just when I thought I couldn’t stand you for a second longer, umbrella head, I change my mind.”
“So is the note from Ryder?” Crow asked.
“No. And before you ask: it’s not dangerous, it’s not signed, it’s not anything that will be a problem.”
