“I have a meeting, and I’ll need a ride. The police impounded my vehicle after they detained me, and now they refuse to give it back… some nonsense about how my license has expired and I’m too old to drive. My book club is expecting me and it’s my turn to bring lunch.”
Cam’s hand shot up. “I can drive you!”
“You don’t have a car,” I reminded him.
“No problem, Mrs. D. I’ll just take yours.”
I threw him a look. “Mrs. Haggerty, what time do you need to be at your meeting? I’ll take you.”
She didn’t thank me so much as offer me a curt nod. “Eleven o’clock. I’ll see you all in the morning,” she said, turning for the stairs.
Cam put his game controllers in his backpack, scooped up Arnold, and headed for the door.
“Hold on. I’ll give you a ride home,” I offered, reaching for my coat. I didn’t like the idea of Cam walking to the nearest bus stop alone.
He held up his phone. “I got an Uber.”
“How much is it?” I asked, opening my wallet. The least I could do was spring for his ride.
“Don’t worry about it. I already Venmo’d myself a hundred from your bank account. Later, Mrs. D,” he said on his way out the door.
I shook my head as I watched him duck into the back seat of a rideshare. Not two weeks had passed since Vero and I had caught Cam hacking our mobile devices for his mob-boss employer. I had given him a stern lecture while Vero had purged all the spyware she could find from our phones. Still, the fact that he was being honest about his crimes felt like progress.
CHAPTER 3
I waited for Mrs. Haggerty to retire for the night before I headed to Vero’s room. The house was dark and unsettlingly quiet, and I felt a little safer as I closed and locked her door. I changed into a comfy pair of sweatpants I’d found in the dryer and crawled into Vero’s bed, pulling the blankets all the way up to my chin before turning off the lamp. I stared at the ceiling in the dark, listening for the sound of breaking glass or a door creaking open.
What if Stacey was right and the real killer was still out there? What if they came back?
I squeezed my eyes shut, frustrated that I had let that thought enter my mind. Gilford Dupree had been murdered five years ago, and whoever killed him probably didn’t care one iota about me or my family. If anything, Mrs. Haggerty had far more reasons to be afraid than I did.
That thought didn’t make me feel any better.
What if the killer came here looking for her?
I threw an arm over my eyes. I was being ridiculous. No one was going to break into my house tonight. No one except for Nick.
I bolted upright in the bed.
Oh, god. What if Nick did come after work? What if he used the key to let himself into the house? What if he snuck into my bedroom, stripped off his clothes, and accidentally spooned with Mrs. Haggerty?
I threw off the covers and tucked Vero’s pillow under my arm, carrying it with me downstairs to the living room. The sofa wasn’t as comfortable as Vero’s bed, but if I slept within sight of the front door, at least I could prevent any traumatic late-night booty calls.
I fluffed the pillow and arranged the blanket on the couch, but I couldn’t seem to settle in. I got up and tested the dead bolt on the front door. Then I headed to the kitchen to check the one in the garage, hoping Vero had remembered to lock up when she’d left.
I opened the service door and turned on the light, relieved to find the bay door shut.
Before I could turn off the light and lock up again, my gaze snagged on my small collection of household tools on the pegboard on the back wall. I entertained the thought of bringing one of them into the house with me for protection, but I didn’t have a great selection of pointy garage implements to choose from.
As I closed the door, an idea began to form.
When Steven had moved out, he’d taken everything in the garage with him but my tiny pink garden trowel. He’d argued that I didn’t know how to use most of the home-improvement tools anyway, and he’d promised to come back to fix anything that broke.
I reached for my phone, my anxiety yielding to hope as I sent a quick text to Steven, telling him I needed a favor and asking him ifhe could drop by my house with his tool kit tomorrow. He replied almost immediately with a thumbs-up emoji and said he and the kids would be there around noon. I had told Brendan his grandmother could stay until her power and water were fixed. Steven was handy when it came to repairs, and in his line of work he knew a lot of contractors. If I asked him to take a look at Mrs. Haggerty’s house, I’m sure he could figure out what needed to be done. With any luck, I could have her back in her own home before the weekend was over.
I poured myself a glass of wine and turned the TV on at a low volume. Then I flipped past a few police procedural dramas before settling on a Hallmark rom-com. I sipped my wine, waiting for the alcohol to settle my nerves as I burrowed under the throw blanket. My situation could have been worse, I reminded myself. The kids were safe with their father, Vero was safe with Javi, and Mrs. Haggerty was probably fast asleep. With any luck, the only body that would turn up here tonight was toned and perfect and definitely warm. I checked my phone, hoping for a message from Nick.
Instead, a message from my literary agent was waiting on the screen.
