The women departed the aquarium less than triumphant, and Bel made the solitary trip home, the sun long gone by the time she pulled into the grocery store parking lot. She forwent a basket since she only needed two items, but she barely made it three steps past the entrance when her phone rang.
“Can you pick up eggs while you’re there?” Eamon’s voice asked. “I need olive oil for dinner, so I decided to make dessert while I waited, but now I don’t have eggs for breakfast.”
“Are you tracking my location?” Bel doubled back for a cart. If Eamon was asking for eggs, he meant cartons of them. The man’s appetite was not easily satiated, and he had a cute habit of making Cerberus a gently scrambled egg in the morning so they could all eat together.
“Cerberus made me do it.”
“I’ll let it slide this time. Is there anything else we need while I’m here?”
“Only if you want something specific. I had groceries delivered earlier; I just forgot the basil. And put it on my credit card since you know a dozen eggs won’t cut it.”
“In that case, I’m raiding the organic snacks aisle,” Bel teased. During the Matchstick Girl investigation, she’d traveled out of town to interview a victim’s parents, and unexpectedly spent the night in a small motel. The less-than-luxurious accommodations had bothered Eamon, so he’d put her nameon his account and shoved the credit card into her wallet. He didn’t care how she used it, but her stubborn independence only tolerated the plastic because she swore to use it solely for emergencies… and when he asked for expensive pasture-raised, organic eggs. Only the best for Cerberus, of course.
“So what dessert did you make?” she asked as she grabbed the fresh basil from the produce refrigerator.
“Banana bread. Half with chocolate chips, and half with walnuts for you to take for breakfast.”
“Oh, so domestic.”
“More like I was playing rough with Cerberus, and we knocked the bananas on the floor. They all split open, and he went to town. There’s probably dog-slobber bananas in this bread, but I’ve seen you kiss that animal, so you can’t complain… oh, can you grab more?—”
“Bananas?” she finished for him. “Already doing?—”
“Detective?” a female voice interrupted, and Bel spun around to find Mrs. Triton reaching for the same bananas. “I thought that was you.”
“Eamon, hold on.” She turned her attention to the mother. “It’s nice to see you.”
“Thank you,” the woman said.
“For what?” Bel reached for a different bunch of bananas.
“For not asking how I am. It’s why I’ve started shopping at night. Fewer people.”
“I understand.” Considering how this woman had thrown her out of her house the last time she’d been coherent, Bel fought the urge to rest a comforting hand on her shoulder. “I can’t even begin to comprehend the pain you’re going through, but I do understand the stares and the questions.” She gestured to her throat.
“I can’t imagine what you went through to emerge with those,” Mrs. Triton said, and Bel regretted not putting Eamon on mute.
“It’s not something I ever wish to repeat, but I’ve made my peace with what happened. I’m still here…” she trailed off, realizing that was insensitive to say to the mother of a murdered child.
“Yes, you are.” Mrs. Triton didn’t seem offended by the comment.
“Well, it was nice to see you,” Bel said. “Have a good night.”
“Detective?” the woman stopped her from leaving. “About the last time we saw each other. I wanted to apologize for my behavior.”
“It’s all right.”
“No, you don’t understand; I didn’t take anything.”
“What you are going through is?—”
“I swear to you, I didn’t take anything,” Mrs. Triton repeated. “You have to believe me. I don’t know why I behaved that way.”
“Mrs. Triton.” Bel sagged. Seemed they were doing this. “I spoke to your husband. You were inconsolable… he didn’t know what to do.”
“Excuse me?” Mr. Triton pinched her eyebrows at her words.
“He implied he helped you sleep,” Bel explained.
