“He’s not a babysitter. He’s a detective. And a damn good one,” she said, pointing her straw at me. “And since you both have a vested interest in making sure Theresa’s not a felon, I figured you could help each other out.”
“Is that all?”
“Consider it a favor to me, if it’ll make you feel better.”
“Since when do I owe you any favors?”
“Since I babysat two weeks ago.” I opened my mouth to argue but closed it at Georgia’s withering look.
“Nick’s partner’s going to be stuck in the hospital for a while.The big C,” she added solemnly. “Nick’s lonely. He could use the company.” My sister had always been a terrible liar.
“So this is a setup.”
She shrugged. “He’s a nice guy, Finn. He’s single, he’s honest, and he’s gainfully employed.” She licked pizza grease off her fingers. “Cops get good health care and retirement, you know.”
“I don’t need a babysitterora husband. I’m doing just fine.” Georgia wore her skepticism like a favorite shirt. I jutted my chin at her. “What about you? When are you going to find yourself a wife? It’s been like a decade since you went out on a date, and you don’t hear me giving you grief about it.”
“Don’t be hyperbolic. It hasn’t been a decade.” I raised an eyebrow as she shoveled the last of her pizza in her mouth, tapping a finger against my crossed arms as she chewed. She pushed herself back in her bench and wiped her hands. “It’s been eighteen months, if you must know. And I don’t need a wife. I have my own retirement and health care. You, on the other hand—”
“Seriously, Georgia. I’m fine.”
“How fine?”
“I got a book deal.” Georgia made a face. She bumped her fist against her chest, releasing a soft belch. “Nice. Keep doing that in public and it’ll be a decade before you know it.”
Georgia rolled her eyes. “I thought you already had a book deal.” I’d had plenty of book deals before, and after Sylvia took her commission and Uncle Sam took his cut, there’d hardly been enough left to buy dinner and a decent pedicure.
“I got a better one.”
She took a long, disinterested sip of her soda. “Yeah? How much?”
“A hundred fifty thousand for two books.”
Georgia’s mouth fell open. A dribble of grease slipped down her chin. “Shut the fuck up.”
“I’m serious. I’ve got less than thirty days to get a draft to Sylvia, and I don’t have time to entertain your friend on his wild goose chase.”
Georgia smacked the table. “Holy shit, Finn! You did it!” I shrank in my seat as the mom in an adjoining booth turned to scowl at us. “I can’t believe it. That night you asked me to watch the kids, I figured you just wanted a night to yourself. I didn’t think you were actually working or anything.”
“Thanks for your vote of confidence.”
She crumpled her napkin and tossed it at me. “I mean it, Finn. I’m seriously proud of you.” She was. I could see it in the shine in her eyes. The last time Georgia had looked at me that way was the day Zach was born. And Delia before that. It was the same way my parents had looked at Georgia when she’d graduated from the police academy, and with every promotion she’d earned since. My throat burned with bittersweet pride, and I hid it behind a long sip of soda. I had finally written a worthwhile story and it would probably land me behind bars. “Have you called Mom and Dad to tell them the news yet?”
I shook my head, fidgeting with my straw. “You know how they feel about it.” It was fine to have a hobby when I was married, my mother had said. But after Steven had left, they were both very clear that writing books was an irresponsible career choice. They’d been pushing me to get a government job ever since.
Georgia leaned over the table and lowered her voice. “Now that you’ve got some serious money coming in, maybe you can get Stevenand Theresa off your back about the custody stuff. With any luck, you and Nick will figure out where she was that night. Maybe that’ll put an end to it.”
I choked back a mirthless laugh. Oh, it would definitely put an end to it. If Nick followed the bread crumbs and found Harris’s body, I’d be lucky to see my kids ever again.
I shook my head. “Theresa may have done a lot of shitty things, but I honestly don’t think this is one of them. Innocent until proven guilty, right?”
Georgia sucked a tooth. “If she wasn’t at the bar that night, she’s got nothing to hide.”
Nothing to hide. Except the shovel in her shed, the search history on her laptop, and the body buried in her fiancé’s sod farm. Theresa was treading thin ice, and she didn’t even know it. All she needed to prove her innocence was a solid alibi for the night Harris disappeared. Which meant all I had to do to keep her out of prison was figure out where she’d been that night.
The navy-blue sedan parked in my driveway was suspiciously nondescript. Similar to Detective Anthony’s, with fewer antennae and a little more rust. A ripple of anxiety shot through me.
“You expecting someone?” Georgia asked, pulling in behind it after lunch.
