No.This could not be happening. The fire had only occurred last night. In a different county. The police hadn’t even talked to Bree yet, and Vero and I hadn’t left anything at the trailer that could have led the cops here first. Had we?
As I eased the car into the driveway, my mind whirled over what Vero might have already confessed to them. Or what alibi she might have managed to come up with on the fly. Before I left for Bree’s, I’d washed our soot-stained clothes from the night before, but what about our shoes? We’d probably left evidence all over Vero’s car.
I parked the van, closing the garage door behind me, preparedto turn the police away if they hadn’t come with a warrant. My feet jolted to a stop as I stumbled into the kitchen.
Nick sat at my table, deep lines of concentration cutting into his brow. Delia sat on her knees in the chair opposite him. Propped on her elbows, she leaned across the table, watching him through the few remaining empty holes in her yellow Connect Four rack. Nick didn’t look up from their game, but I could feel the flick of his eyes as he registered my arrival.
Vero leaned against the counter behind them, grinning as she dried her hands on a dish towel.
No handcuffs. No warrants.
Nick’s partner, Joey, sat on the couch in the living room, his head tipped back, eyes closed, mouth open, his chest rising and falling in the slow, steady rhythm of sleep. Zach sat beside him, his attention glued to the TV asBlue’s Cluesplayed softly in the background.
Vero pressed a finger to her lips as I closed the door, jutting her chin toward the table where my daughter and Nick were engaged in a game of strategy. Or maybe a test of wills.
“The detective came looking for you,” she whispered, too softly to be heard over the clatter of discs into the frame. “I told him you were out and you’d call him when you got home, but then Delia spotted him before he could get away.”
A mug of coffee steamed on the table in front of Nick. The open foil of the last Pop-Tart in the house—my Pop-Tart—glimmered beside it. He held a red disc poised over the top of the rack. One eyebrow rose as he glanced over at Delia and let the piece fall. “Connect Four.”
Delia’s jaw dropped. “You won?”
“It’s about time!” He leaned back in his chair, stuffing a corner of my Pop-Tart into his mouth and talking around it. “You’ve been clobbering me for the last half hour.”
She snapped open the lever at the bottom of the rack, sending a shower of red and black discs over the table. “Let’s play again.”
Vero pulled Delia’s chair back from the table, forcing her to abandon the pile of black discs she’d gathered toward her. “I’ve got a better idea. Let’s let your mom and Nick play a round.” My daughter blinked up at me, as if she’d only just realized I was home. She opened her mouth to object, but Vero held out the last of my Pop-Tart, bribing her from the kitchen.
“Be careful,” Delia warned me. “He’s sneaky.” She trotted away with a smug Vero in tow.
“Up for a game?” Nick laced his fingers together behind his head, his dark eyes twinkling as I sat in Delia’s abandoned seat.
“New car?” I dropped a black disc into the frame, watching it plunk and settle on the bottom. Nick let a red one slide from his fingers, right on top of mine.
“It’s Joey’s.”
“He seems nice.” I didn’t know many men who could sit through an episode ofBlue’s Clues.
“He talks too damn much.”
“I heard that,” Joey grumbled from the couch.
“He’s been moonlighting as a mall cop at night and helping his mom on the weekends,” Nick explained. “He conked out on your sofa about thirty minutes ago. I figured it couldn’t hurt to stay and play a few rounds with Delia while he grabs a fewz’s.”
“It’s fine. I just wasn’t expecting a visit. You said you’d call.”
He watched me position another disc over the frame. “I heard about the fire at the farm.”
My hand froze around my game piece. “Oh?”
“I wanted to make sure you and the kids were doing okay.”
“We’re fine,” I said cautiously. “Do the police know anything yet?”
“No idea. The farm’s not in my jurisdiction. But I can ask around the lab. Maybe Pete’s heard something. Give me a day or two to nose around and see what I can find out. If you’re free on Saturday, maybe I could fill you in over dinner.”
My throat tightened as I looked up at him. There was nothing platonic in the way he was watching me over his coffee as he sipped. “Just dinner,” I clarified. “It wouldn’t be like a date.”
“Not if you don’t want it to be.”
