He shrugged. “My folks died in a fire right after I was born, and I was raised by my grandpa. A drinker. A total bastard. He’s long dead.” The words were true and saying them still hurt a little. But that was how you got into somebody else’s head. “Is your mom around?”
Pippa tried to retreat; he could see it in her eyes. But he’d shared, so she’d be obligated. Yeah, he was good at his job and could be a total dick. “No. My mother is gone.”
“I’m sorry.” Mal turned to study her. There was a ring of truth to her words, but something was off. Plus, Force had told him her mother was still in the cult. “How did she die?” he asked, leaning back against the peach Formica counter and trying to look relaxed.
Pippa’s mouth opened and then closed. “Car wreck. Destroyed her quickly.”
Interesting. Again, some truth with the lie. “Where is she buried? Can you visit the grave?”
Pippa blinked. “Enough sad talk. Really.” She looked at the white-painted drawers to the right of the sink. “That’s where Mrs. Maloni kept her utensils.”
He nodded and tried to remember which box held the utensils he’d bought at Target. His gaze caught on the furniture in the living room. All floral and old ladyish. He couldn’t afford new stuff, and he bit back a wince.
Pippa caught his focus. “You could get slipcovers.”
He paused. “Slipcovers?”
“Yeah. They cover the sofa and chairs. There are tons to choose from. If you have a computer, I can show you sites.” She moved to the nearest box and opened it. “These are socks.”
“Oh.” He loped toward her, not missing the widening of her pupils. She was as aware of him as he was of her. He crouched and slid another box toward her, opening it slowly. The new utensils. “Do you shop a lot online?”
She nodded and reached for the box of forks. “Sure. I work online, too.”
“Doing what?” It was getting easier to question her.
She took the forks over to the drawer by the sink. “I’m a virtual assistant to several self-employed people. A couple of business owners, an artist, two dentists, an art dealer, three stockbrokers, and an author. I do their accounting, make their travel plans, or assist in whatever they need.”
Sounded like an ideal job for a shut-in. It also sounded perfectly innocent. “What kind of businesses do the owners have?”
“One is a small construction business and the other is an antiques store. He travels a lot.” She struggled to open the box and then started putting forks in a slot. Mrs. Maloni had left the divider thingy in the drawer.
“What kind of construction?” Mal asked casually.
Pippa shrugged. “Everything from demolition to renovation. It’s profitable.”
Demolition. Interesting. So, she had an easy way to get her hands on explosives. Mal grabbed the boxes holding knives and spoons and slid them to her across the counter. “Sounds like a good living.”
“It’s okay.” She took the knives. “You were gone earlier today. Where were you?”
His mind finally shoved away all the external noise. All the excuses. It was time to decide, so he did. “I took a new job.”
Her eyebrows lifted. “You have a job already?”
“Yeah.” That was that, then. He was in.
Chapter Six
Special Agent Angus Force enjoyed early mornings in the office. He always had. When the coffee was fresh, the quiet still there, and nobody had informed him of a dead body. Oh, that always came. But at the moment, alone in the crappy basement, he sipped his warm drink and studied his murder board in case room one.
The elevator dinged outside, but he didn’t move. West was a detective. He could find Angus.
The man’s heavy steps echoed through the empty bull pen, and then movement came at the door. “I’ll take the job.”
Angus didn’t bother turning around. “I know.”
Silence ticked for two beats, and West walked into the room, yanking out a chair at the conference table. He set down an entire platter of what looked like cookies and banana bread. “How did you know?”
Angus slowly turned. “You baked for me? How sweet.”
