When I tell Miles that, he drops the can back into the recycling bin. “I don’t want to state the obvious, but Marcus was alone with the salad.”
He’s right. He brought it out to us. And he said I had to eat it if I was making it for Gramma Sharon. Then I remember Gramma Sharon’s glass of bourbon that I dumped in the sink.
“Valencia was, too. Why hurt her mother, though?” I ask. “If I’m the target, why put glass in something they knew she would eat?”
“Because whoever it is isn’t trying to hurt you. They’re trying to expose you. If they... you know—” He looks around the empty kitchen, probably making sure Easton and JT haven’t ventured inside. Miles makes a cutting action at his throat. “—Nate, and they’re trying to keep the life insurance money, they’d probably want to expose you as quick as possible. And if it’s a psychopath we’re dealing with, yeah, they wouldn’t care who got hurt along the way. Least of all their mother-in-law.”
The doorbells rings, and Miles and I share a look.
“Were you expecting anyone else?” he asks.
I shake my head and go to the front door, Miles following closely behind. I don’t realize until I’m already opening the door that I could have checked the doorbell camera app instead, but it’s too late now.
There, standing on the front porch, is retired Agent Grant. He’s still in a suit. And still has that grim look on his face.
I freeze. I don’t know what to even say. Mainly because I have no clue what he’s doing here. But the timing is certainly odd, what with the sink full of Watergate glass salad in the kitchen behind us.
“Hi,” I finally manage. “Can we help you?”
“Nate.” But again he says the name with suspicion. “Are your parents home?”
“No.”
“Where are they?” he asks.
“They had to run out.”
“Where?”
All the alarms in my head are telling me not to answer. “What do you need, Agent Grant?”
He finally gives up the act and his eyes flit over to Miles, then back to me. “I have a friend who’s a nurse at Shore Medical. Said your parents brought your grandmother in with some pretty substantial injuries.”
“Uh.” Miles steps forward. “Not to be mouthy, but doesn’t that violate HIPAA laws?”
“Not when she didn’t tell me what the substantial injuries are. Just that she came in. I decided I’d check to see if everything was okay here. Since I’m close with the family.”
“Then why weren’t you at the barbecue?” I ask. When he doesn’t answer, I finally try to end the conversation. “She ate canned pineapple tainted with something from the factory. She hurt her mouth.”
He nods slowly.
“Anything else?” I ask.
“Is there?” Agent Grant replies.
Miles puts up his hand. “Actually, I have something. Forgive me for being so forward, but would you be open to coming on my podcast?” Agent Grant’s eyes flick from Miles to over my shoulder. I turn and see Easton walking out from the kitchen. He looks pissed. Miles continues. “I think you’d be an iconic guest.”
“What are you doing here?” Easton asks.
“I heard about your grandmother. I wanted to make sure everything is okay.”
“Then go to the hospital, where she is.” Easton steps in front of me, blocking my view of Agent Grant. He turns to Miles. “And Miles, I think you should go home, too.”
“Right. Okay.” He turns back to Agent Grant. “So the podcast.”
“Now, Miles.”
He nods and steps around Agent Grant. “Well, you know where I live. So... see you later, Nate.”
