“Coming in! Don’t shoot us!”
The door flew open. John and Beth rushed in, propelled by a gust of rainy wind. John slammed the door shut.
Then the four of them froze, forming a bizarre tableau where the only thing moving was the rainwater dripping off the police-issue slickers John and Beth were wearing.
Eventually Mitch released his captured breath, lowered his pistol, and stood upright as he assisted Dylan to her feet. Crossly, he said, “You could have given me a second or two of advance warning. And, anyway, what the hell are you doing here?”
John made a show of taking a look around the room before coming back to him. “This is my house.”
Mitch noticed that Beth gave her husband a subtle nudge in the ribs. Unlike John, who stood there glowering, she smiled. “Good morning.” She pushed back the hood of her slicker and unsnapped it, revealing her very pregnant belly. “I apologize for barging in. I know it’s early, but John—”
“Aunt Bet!” Andrew came charging out of the guest room and tackled her around the knees. John reacted quickly to stabilize her. “Hey, partner. Careful there or you’ll shake the baby out.”
As soon as Beth had begun to show, she, John, and Mitch had sat him down and explained about the baby growing inside Aunt Beth’s tummy. She’d used her Doppler kit to let him listen to the heartbeat. It was still an abstraction to him, but when John cautioned him now, he patted Beth’s stomach. Then he turned and pointed to Dylan. “That’s Dwon. She’s daddy’s friend.”
“I gathered.” Beth removed her slicker and passed it to John, who hung it along with his on the coat tree, then together they walked over to where Mitch and Dylan still stood close to each other near the dining table.
Disregarding Dylan’s deer-in-the-headlights expression, Mitch made the introductions. “Dylan, Lieutenant Bowie. John, Dr. Reede. Y’all have talked on the phone. About me.”
She extended her hand. As they shook, John shot Mitch a look and said, “I think we can move past the formalities. Nice to meet you in person, Dylan.”
“Likewise.”
“This is my wife, Beth.”
“Hello, Dylan.”
The two women shook hands, but Dylan’s embarrassment was obvious. She said, “I’m sorry for imposing on your hospitality.” Addressing John specifically, she said, “The gumbowas delicious.” Then to Beth, “I was about to wash the things I used.” She gestured at the pile of laundry on the floor. “And I’ll replace your sneakers. The shoes I was wearing—”
Beth reached out and touched her arm to stop the flow. “I understand perfectly. I was involuntarily sequestered here once.”
“At least I bought you some clothes,” John muttered.
“No, you didn’t, I did,” Mitch said. “Remember, Beth?”
She looked at John and raised a shoulder. “He did. He took me shopping at Target.”
Mitch gave John a beatific smile. But the satisfying moment was ruined when Andrew announced, “I need to pee-pee.” He was looking frantic and pinching his bits. “Excuse us.” Mitch took his son’s hand. “Potty training is recent. He’s doing well, but sometimes his aim is off.”
“Which unfortunately will never improve,” Beth remarked in an undertone.
As Mitch led Andrew into the guest room, he heard John ask if there was any coffee left, and Dylan offered to brew a fresh pot. Mitch oversaw Andrew using the toilet then took off his pajamas and dressed him.
When they came back into the main room, the women were seated at the table, laughing as they compared their initial reactions to the fishing camp. John had propped himself against the counter, but he didn’t appear to be tuned in to their chitchat. Mitch recognized his familiar scowl of heavy-duty concentration.
Andrew spotted the box of Froot Loops and carton of milk already on the table and ran toward it. Dylan got up and hoisted him onto the stack of phone books in the other chair, saying as she handed him a spoon, “Show Aunt Beth how you use yourmanners.”
As Mitch was making his way over, John set down his mug of coffee and intercepted him. “I need to talk to you.”
“I need to talk to you, too. Your room or mine?” Mitch asked.
“Outside.”
“It’s raining.”
“All the better.” They went out onto the porch but stayed well under the overhang. “Any word on Hank?”
“Mary is supposed to call me after the angioplasty.” Mitch consulted his wristwatch. “Couple of hours yet. What’s up?”
