The wipers work overtime.
Willa’s home glows soft yellow through the windows, the light blurred by the drizzle. A kid’s slide and basketball sit abandoned in the snow.
“Give me two minutes to drop this off,” he says, reaching for a bag he slipped onto the back seat.
“No. I’m coming. I want to make sure she’s safe too.”
River looks like he’s about to argue, then changes his mind. “Fine.”
We move quick, and Willa answers the door in a robe, hair up. “Hey, you two. Come in. Sorry. Got home from work and just couldn’t face sitting around in my bra and work pants all evening.”
“We aren’t staying,” River says as we step inside. “I just came by to give you this and let you know there will be a patrol around the house tonight. Prospects. They have been instructed to not knock on the door or come inside. Anyone tries to pull that bullshit, you call me.”
Willa opens the bag, then winces. “You know I don’t like having guns in the house with the kids.”
River places his hand on his sister’s arm. “And in an ideal world, you wouldn’t need to. But a very clever man, an FBI agent, is looking for Wren because he’s been stalking them. I have no idea if he knows where you live, but I want you ready in case he comes.”
“I can’t kill a federal agent,” she says. “The kids need me.”
“I know, Willa. But we have files and files of evidence that he’s not only stalking Wren but wants to do unspeakable things to them. He’s mentally unhinged. He comes looking for you, you shoot first. He won’t be recording his visit; it won’t be legal. But he might use his name, Dorian Chase, to try to get in. You’ll be covered by castle doctrine or stand your ground. But if you’re unsure, we can pack the kids up and you guys can stay at the clubhouse until this is over.”
“Fine. I’ll take the bag. What else is in there?”
“A walkie-talkie. I have its pair. Just in case communications get cut, I?—”
“Dear God, River. How bad do you think it’s going to be?”
I grip Willa’s shoulder. “It’s a very slim chance. River just wants to be overprepared.”
Willa’s shoulders drop away from her ears. “Okay.”
River tugs a hand through his hair, pushing it back off his face. “Sorry, yeah. Don’t mean to scare you, but I just…it’s the first time I haven’t been out there to…”
“You’ve got to start your own life sometime. And we haven’t seen my ex in six months. I’m sure we’re okay.”
River kisses Willa’s cheek. “Stay safe. And don’t forget there will be prospects around. They’ll be wearing club colors, so you’ll know them.”
We make the same stop at his mom’s, and when we get back into the truck to head for home, Catfish looks at me with mischief in his eyes. “You hungry?” he asks.
“Starved,” I reply.
He reaches for his phone. “Margie,” he says when the person answers. “It’s Catfish. Is it too late to get two orders of meatloaf and apple pie to go?”
There’s a pause as he grins at whatever the person on the other end is saying.
“Not tonight, Margie. Got shit to do.” He looks at me. “Yeah, you can meet ‘em another day. And put a container of ice cream for the pie in the bag. See you in ten.”
“Should I ask who Margie is?”
River glances over his shoulder as he begins to reverse out of Willa’s drive. “Wraith’s former mother-in-law.”
“Oh, God. Yeah. I learned about what happened to Wraith’s first wife and daughter at book club. So awful.”
River taps along on the steering wheel to the country music playing on the radio. “Yeah. We kinda lost Wraith for a while there. Can’t tell you half the things he did to find the person who did it.”
I place my hand on River’s thigh, and he puts his hand over the top of it. “I’m assuming that person won’t be hurting anyone else.”
“No. He won’t. Margie wants to meet you.”
