“Yeah. I’m just … I’m grateful we both got left behind yesterday.” Purely for Vivien’s sake, she told herself. Nothing else. This was just like a crush on any famous person: hypothetical, harmless, and hopeless.
Griffin gave one of his rare, genuine smiles—the kind that made her breath hitch. “I feel the same way.”
Yeah, she thought.I’m not sure you do.
Chapter 12
Griffin
As Lana and Griffin got out of the car outside the deli, a horn beeped insistently.
Griffin pulled his cap lower. “Ignore it.”
“Hey!” a woman yelled.
He groaned. “Maybe I should stay in the car. I’ll just be a distraction.”
“Hey!” she called again as they crossed the lot. “Are you Lana? Lana Fleming?”
They halted. The woman sat in a white sedan, the driver’s door open. Lana cautiously approached, Griffin following. She was wearing a tracksuit and eating a sandwich. She was enormously pregnant.
“Are you…?” Lana began.
“Detective Keisha Graham.” The woman gestured at her hip. “Oh heck, you can’t see that, can you?” She unclipped something and held it up. Her badge. She squinted at Griffin. “You know, you can cover your eyes and your hair, but they’re the least recognizable parts of you, Griffin Hart.” She jerked her head to the passenger seat. “Step into my office, before someone sees you and I have to call out the riot squad.” Lana opened the rear door. “Not the back seat, not both of you. I can’t turn that far.”
Griffin indicated that Lana should take the front, and he got in the back, moving aside a pile of newspapers and magazines.
“Excuse the mess—wasn’t expecting a VIP. I call them up and get them to deliver to my car,” she said, indicating her sandwich. “It’s a pain in the uterus to get in and out all the time.” She adjusted the driver’s mirror so she could see Griffin. “Now, Griffin Hart. Tell me what the hell you’re doing in my car.”
“You … asked us to get in?”
“Yeah, but what’s your connection to this?”
“Does it matter?”
“Only that I want to be able to…” She winced, rubbed her belly, and continued in a strangled tone. “Tell the girls in my mothers’ group. They’ll think this is wild.”
“Lana is a friend—colleague. I’m helping her out.”
“Okay,” the detective squeaked. She started panting.
“Are you in labor?” Lana said.
“I wish. No, I have an ‘irritable uterus.’ Like, no shit. Four miscarriages, five rounds of IVF, and now a freaking bowling ball in there.” The detective tapped her belly. “See? Rock hard. Like Braxton Hicks on steroids. Still another three weeks of this, they say. Anyway, you honestly don’t wanna know about my uterus. You wanna know about your sister.”
“You know something?”
“All I know, she came in with some crazy ideas. Pass my bag from back there, Griffin Hart? The gray backpack?” He did, and she heaved it onto what was left of her lap. She riffled through several notebooks and pulled one out, its pages marked with colored flags. She passed the bag back and relaxed, exhaling heavily. “Honestly, the smallest task.” She flipped to a yellow tab. “So crazy I didn’t take proper notes, I’m afraid.” She tipped the pad up so they could see. There were a few lines of writing, but mostly doodles. “I referred her to mental health services, but I checked last week after I got a call from Officer Sheng in Fitch,and she never showed up for the appointment. To be honest, I thought she was a…”
“Flake?” Lana said, without enthusiasm.
“That’s the word. An antsy one. I take it you haven’t located her?”
“Not a trace, but some other stuff has happened. We got chased by some people on the set ofGods and Mortalsovernight. They were looking for her. And then they were following us just now, in a different car.”
“I heard something happened up there. They say what they wanted with her?”
“No. We had just found Vivien’s phone and switched it on, so we’re thinking whoever was after her came after us. Which suggests it wasn’t all in her head, wouldn’t you say?”
