Avery
Jacy troubled me.
She healed at a fantastic rate, yet seemed preoccupied. Upon my return home from the office, she busily prepared mac and cheese while Declan ran around the TV room, laughing wildly while his kittens chased him. Max watched the drama from the sofa with an air of resignation.
“I’m almost to the point of being sick of noodles with fake cheese,” I commented lightly, kissing her neck.
She offered a distracted smile. “Sorry. I just couldn’t think of anything else.”
“We haven’t unthawed those steaks in the freezer,” I said, dropping my jacket over a chair and yanking my tie off.
“I completely forgot about those.”
I sat, watching her profile closely. Her instincts apparently failed to let her know I stared at her. She never glanced at me nor asked, “What?” as she normally would. Her stiff posture and slightly tightened lips informed me of her tension. When the boiling pot of wieners overflowed, she didn’t notice until the hot stove sent a flurry of steam upward and hissed, spitting water everywhere.
“What’s wrong?” I asked as she hastily cleaned up the mess.
I received another distracted smile. “Nothing. Why?”
“You seem off. Uptight.”
“I’m fine. No worries.”
“You don’t look it.”
Ignoring me, Jacy strode to the TV room. “Declan, wash your hands. It’s time for dinner.”
Whooping, Declan charged into the kitchen, the cats, as usual, tagging along. If he noticed Jacy’s odd stress, he said nothing. Rather, he climbed onto his stool to wash his hands at the kitchen sink, happy over the prospects of yet another mac and cheese dinner.
Just as she started to dish up the dinner, the front doorbell rang. Max went ballistic, barking while rushing to the door. I eyed Jacy in surprise, who returned the same confused expression. “Expecting someone?”
“No.”
I got up, envisioning Carter on the far side with a gun, and grabbed Max’s collar. Tense, I unlocked the door, then opened it enough to peer around the edge. Max continued to lunge, yanking my arm, exercising his lungs and his duties as a dog.
Detective Jenkins gave me a sheepish grin. “Hey, sorry about not calling first. May I come in?”
I opened the door wider. Max wagged his tail, excited to have a visitor, even if my enthusiasm for such hovered somewhere around my ankles. “We were about to have dinner.”
“Smells great.”
He bent to pet Max, then stepped around me as though I’d invited him in. Sighing, I shut the door and locked it as Jenkins, escorted by a bouncing, grinning Max, strode toward the kitchen. I followed to find him greeting Jacy with a quick hug and ruffling Declan’s hair. Doffing his coat, he hung it on a chair’s back.
“I really need to talk to you,” he said, seating himself at the table while eyeing Declan. “But not in front of the child.”
I met Jacy’s glance with a shrug. “He can eat watching TV,” I said. “Come on, little man. Let’s set you up in there.”
“No feeding a wiener to Max,” Jacy warned him while fixing Declan’s plate. “He’ll just puke it up later.”
“I won’t.”
I settled Declan on the sofa with his tray and dinner, a goofy cartoon on the tube. With him happily eating his mac and cheese, I returned to the kitchen and found Jacy setting a full plate in front of Jenkins. I sat in my usual chair and asked, “What’s so important that you invite yourself to dinner?”
Jenkins offered up his shit eating grin. “Thank you for feeding me. I sorta hoped you would.”
Jacy also sat, her tension not fading in the least. “It’s my brother, isn’t it?”
“Yep.” Jenkins dug into his mac and cheese with a happy moan. “Delicious. I’ve got local, county, and state police looking for him. The feds want him on all kinds of charges, not just the killing of your dad.”
