The answer to that was complicated, but Steven had never been one for nuance. “I’m happy, for the first time in a long time. I’d like to hold on to that.”
He nodded at my answer, which wasn’t really an answer at all, but seemed to satisfy his need for one. “Your turn,” he said quietly.
“Have you ever done something really horrible you never told me about?”
“What I just confessed to you wasn’t horrible enough?”
“I mean, have you ever…” I wasn’t sure how to frame the question.Have you ever hurt someoneseemed too subjective, easy to slip around and avoid answering directly.Have you ever broken a lawwas too broad. Speeding on the interstate, rolling through aSTOPsign, misrepresenting your taxable income to the IRS, dine and ditch… he’d done all of those things, but those weren’t the kinds of crimes I was concerned about. “Have you ever committed a major felony?”
He barked out a laugh. “Other than the one I committed with you? No, Finlay,” he deadpanned, “besides burying my murdered business partner on my farm for you, I’ve never committed a major felony.”
“You swear?”
“I swear.Jesus.” Something about the way he shook his head made me believe him. “Why do you always do this? Try to make me out to be a bad guy? What’s this really about?”
“Nothing,” I said, feeling foolish for asking. Steven had always been a petty, womanizing, lying opportunist, but I had a hard time believing he’d ever been a cold-blooded, remorseless villain, and I hated thatEasyClean’s parting words to me had given me a reason to doubt that. “You’re the one who wanted to play. Whose turn is it anyway?”
“I lost count,” he said irritably. We sat in silence, both of us squintingat the sun as it breached the horizon. Steven’s sigh was heavy when he finally spoke. “If you’re in trouble, you know you can come to me, Finn. Whatever you need, you can ask me. It doesn’t have to be a game.”
What I needed was an alibi. Someone who could say I had been with them last night. All night. But with Steven, trust had always been a game. I knew if I asked him to lie for me—to tell my mother and the police we’d spent the night together—he would. But that was one sip too many from a cup I should never have drunk from in the first place. I got up and dusted the sand from my pants. “I’m not in trouble,” I said. At least, I wasn’t yet.
Sand shed itself from my clothes as Steven and I boarded the elevator. I caught my ruddy-cheeked reflection in the mirrored wall and smoothed down my hair, scratching loose the tiny grains still clinging to my scalp. I was pretty sure I was carrying half the beach inside my sneakers.
The doors opened on our floor. Steven held out an arm, gesturing for me to go first. I took a step out and froze at the unmistakable sound of my sister’s cop voice, booming down the hall.
Steven stiffened as he registered it, too. “What the hell is your sister doing here?” he whispered, cowering in the elevator.
“Shit,” I whispered. I had no idea. We hadn’t been gone more than ninety minutes. Not nearly long enough for my mother to have organized a search party. I peered around the corner and nearly lost my waffles. My sister wasn’t alone.
I reached back into the elevator and pressed the button for the lobby. Then I smacked the button to shut the elevator doors before Steven could get out.
“What the hell, Finn—?” His protests faded as the doors slid closed between us and the elevator began its descent.
The scene in the hallway in front of me was pure chaos. The occupants of the two rooms directly across the hall from ours were being escorted from their accommodations, luggage in hand, confusion ontheir faces. A hotel manager helped carry their bags, guiding them past me toward the elevators while murmuring profuse apologies. My sister watched, hands on her hips, a badge clipped to her belt.
A man wearing an FBI windbreaker stood beside her, arms crossed over his chest. Luggage and computer bags lined the length of the wall. Housekeeping staff scurried between the two empty rooms, carrying fresh linens and towels and stripping the beds.
I tapped my sister on the shoulder. “What’s going on here?” A small voice in the back of my mind reminded me that I might not want to know the answer to that question.
Georgia’s face broke into a wide smile as she clapped me on the back. “Hey, Finn! Check it out, we’re going to be neighbors.”
“Neighbors?”
Another familiar face popped out of the room that had just been cleared by the hotel manager. “Hey, Finlay. It’s good to see you.” Detective Samara Becker, IT specialist and my sister’s shiny new crush, leaned out the door to wave at me. A long curtain of dark hair fell over the shoulder of her cashmere sweater as she batted her eyelashes at my sister. “What are the room arrangements, Georgia? I figured girls in one room and the guys could take the other. That is, if you’re okay with that?”
Blood rushed to my sister’s face. She cleared her throat with a tight nod, answering in her serious cop voice. “Yep. Men in one room and women in the other seems… logical.”
“Great,” Sam said, revealing a full set of pearly whites that rivaled any toothpaste ad. “I’m just setting up our Wi-Fi while housekeeping finishes. I’ll be done in a sec. And don’t touch our bags,” she said, shaking a finger at the bandages on Georgia’s hand. “Doctor’s orders, remember? I’ll carry them in.”
“Your bags?”
My sister held up a gauze-wrapped arm. “I’m on leave until the doc gives me the green light to go back to work. Figured I’d come along and see what everyone was up to.” Georgia shrugged. “Didn’t have anything better to do.”
“So you brought the FBI?”
Georgia’s FBI friend extended his hand, ignoring my brusque tone. “Garrett Stokes,” he said by way of introduction. “Good to meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you.”
A desperate laugh bubbled out of me.
