Vero set a frosting-slathered chunk of cake on Zach’s high chair tray, and another in front of Delia. “Can I talk to you?” I whispered.
“After cake,” Vero said, carving herself a slice and dropping a dollop of ice cream on top.
I grabbed her by the elbow and dragged her with me, the ice cream scoop clutched stubbornly in her hand dripping a path into the living room.
“Ow!” She scowled at me as she adjusted her paper party hat. I resisted the urge to knock it off her head.
“Nick and I just left Steven’s farm,” I whispered.
Vero paled. “What were you doing there?”
“He found sod on Feliks’s car and traced it back to the field. He’s pulling a warrant to dig it up.”
Vero looked down at the newspaper like she might be sick. It was one thing to have your fictional murder mystery featured in the local news. It was entirely another when someone actually found the body. “Why the hell didn’t you stop him?”
“What was I supposed to do?”
“I don’t know!” Drips of vanilla trailed down her hand and scattered across the carpet. “Distract him! Use your feminine wiles, like you did before!”
“For all the good that did me!”
We glanced back into the kitchen, both of us probably thinking the same thing.
“What the hell are we supposed to do?” she asked.
“I don’t know.” We could take Irina’s money, pack up the kids,and flee the country. But where would we go? And how long would it take Andrei and Feliks to find us once Irina told them we’d stolen it?
“How long will it take him to get a warrant?” Vero asked.
“No idea.” I couldn’t very well call Julian and ask him. “Nick said it wouldn’t be easy to track down a judge on a weekend. Maybe a day or two.”
“Okay,” Vero said through a deep breathing technique that reminded me painfully of Lamaze. “Okay, that’s good. So all we have to do is move the body before he finds it.”
A shrill laugh exploded in the kitchen. Vero and I turned to see Zach smearing cake frosting into his hair. Delia watched him with a look of mild disgust, her pout stained with blue food coloring. There had been enough sugar in that cake to keep them awake for the next forty-eight hours. This was not going to be easy.
“It could be worse,” Vero said.
“Really? Tell me exactly how this could get any worse.”
“They could have brought home a dog. Whatever you do, don’t mention it to Delia. I just got her to stop crying.”
“Why was she crying?”
“Steven took them to the shelter this morning, but Sam was already gone.”
“Someone else adopted him?”
“That guy Aaron—you know, Patricia’s friend. The shelter worker told Steven he took Sam home after work last week. She said it was odd, because he’d just adopted two dogs a few weeks ago, and three dogs aren’t easy to travel with.”
A sinking feeling dipped low in the pit of my stomach. “Travel? What do you mean travel?”
“He left that afternoon. Said he was going on vacation, but henever came back. No one knows where he’s gone.” Our eyes caught. Held. “You don’t think…?”
That must have been right after I’d met him, when I’d asked him all those questions about Patricia. I’d filled out the application using Theresa’s address. Theresa and I lived on the same street. If he’d seen that street name before—like the night Harris died—Aaron could have recognized it and figured out who I was. And why I was searching for her.
Rescues make great companions.
Had that been it? Had Aaron closed the garage door, determined to save Patricia from her abusive home, just like he’d done for Sam and the rescue dogs at the shelter, not realizing she’d already made plans to handle it herself? Had I abducted Harris from the bar before Aaron had a chance? Had he followed me here, then taken the opportunity to finish the job I was too afraid to?
