“It’s really no big deal, Finn. Nick had a question about something and he asked Sam to help him out. Look, I can’t really talk about it. I’m in the middle of a money-laundering investigation and I just got to the crime scene. I need to go.” Georgia disconnected.
“It was just Sam,” I told Vero, ashamed by the rush of relief I felt.
Vero squeezed my hand. “See? Mystery solved. Stacey’s just stirring up the drama squad. Nick’s crazy about you, and he’s crazy about your kids. You’ve got nothing to worry about.”
She closed my laptop and stretched like a cat as she got up.“I’m going downstairs to charge this thing. I want to be ready when Cam calls us back. You going to be okay?” she asked.
I nodded, even though my curiosity over everyone’s secrecy was practically killing me. If the favors Nick needed weren’t a big deal, why had Cam and Georgia been so reluctant to tell me about them? “I’ll be down in a few minutes,” I told Vero.
When she left and shut the door, I couldn’t stand it anymore. There was only one person I knew who was completely incapable of keeping a secret. All I had to do was get her on the phone.
I sent Nick a text.Hey, how’s everything going? I miss you and the kids. Any chance Delia’s free for a chat?
I waited through a pause that felt longer than normal. A full minute passed before Nick’s response appeared.
We miss you too. We’re out running errands. Can we call you tonight?
Yes!I typed back.Can’t wait.
CHAPTER 16
By the time I came downstairs, the bustling house was quiet. Javi and Ramón were huddled over the computer in Ramón’s bedroom, trying to solve the mystery of what was wrong with his surveillance cameras. Vero had fallen asleep on the sofa in the living room, her leg sticking out of the brightly colored afghan where her monitor was connected to its charger on the floor.
I considered going back upstairs and closing my eyes, too. It seemed decadent, having so many hours of free time on my hands, but the thought of taking a nap felt like too much of an indulgence, especially while Nick was stuck running errands with my children. And I already felt guilty for imposing on Norma and Gloria as long as I had. Having houseguests was stressful. The least I could do was use the time to help.
I went to the kitchen and rummaged through the pantry and the fridge, wondering what ingredients I could cobble together for dinner. I wasn’t anywhere near as skilled in the kitchen as Norma and Gloria, but anyone would appreciate not having to cook after a long day at work. I found some ground pork in the fridge and sautéed it with an onion and a pepper, then I tossed it into a Crock-Potwith some canned tomatoes and seasoning. After it simmered for a few hours, I’d throw in some macaroni. It wasn’t a real goulash, but it was the best I could do.
I had just put the lid on the Crock-Pot when the whole thing began to shake. The glassware in the cabinet started to rattle. The whole house seemed to be vibrating. The cause, I realized, was coming from the street. I ran to the living room window, craning my neck just in time to see a bright purple Lincoln Mark V bounce to a stop in front of the house, its stereo turned up so loud the bass was buzzing.
“Vero! Wake up,” I said, shaking her shoulder as the car’s hydraulics whined. She groaned at me and pulled the throw pillow over her head. I grabbed the corner of it and yanked it away from her face. “Cam’s here,” I said as the car’s engine—and the music—cut off.
Vero shot upright and blinked. “What do you mean, he’s here? He can’t be here.”
“You know someone else who drives a glittery eighteen-foot eggplant?” I tossed Vero her shoes and socks.
She got up too fast, tripping on her charging cord. She yanked it out and tossed it away from her, scrambling to put on her shoes. “I thought you said he was going to call. How’d he know where to find us?”
I didn’t bother answering that. I doubted there was anyone with a driver’s license or a Social Security number Camcouldn’tfind, but the spyware I was sure he’d snuck onto my phone probably made it easier. Vero threw the dead bolt and unlatched the chain a second before Cam reached for the doorbell. He carried his backpack over one arm and a leather-clad Chihuahua under the other. Arnold Schwarzenegger gave a pleased bark and wagged his tail when we shuffled outside.
“You can’t come in,” Vero said, turning Cam around by the shoulders and pushing him back toward the driveway. “If you step foot inside that house, I’ll get in a lot of trouble.”
“You’re already in a lot of trouble.”
“I’ll get in the kind you can’t fix. If my cousin finds out what we’re up to, I won’t need a tracking device because he will superglue my ass to the wall of my bedroom, and I’ll never see the light of day again.”
“Where the hell are we supposed to do this, then?” Cam gestured to the front window of the house across the street. Eugene was peering through his curtain. Next door, Lenore sprayed water all over her sidewalk as she squinted at the tinted windows of Cam’s car while she pretended to water her daffodils. “We can’t do this with an audience. I need to test all this shit before I wire you up.”
Wendell shambled down his driveway in a pair of fuzzy slippers, dragging his recycling bin behind him. Joan was hovering beside her empty mailbox. They both waved when we caught them staring at us. “Cam’s right. We can’t do this out here,” I whispered to Vero.
“Wait here,” she said, darting back into her house. She returned a moment later with her cousin’s key ring. “Get in,” she said, shooing us toward Ramón’s white panel van. We all climbed inside the back, and Vero quickly slammed the door. It took a moment for my eyes to adjust. There were no windows in the cargo area. The van smelled like tire rubber, paint thinner, and machine lubricant. It held a variety of toolboxes, an air pump, and some jumper cables and jacks.
“Sweet!” Cam said, setting Arnold on the floor to sniff around. “My very own surveillance van.” Cam took a power screwdriver off a shelf and tested the trigger.
“It’s not a surveillance van,” Vero said, snatching it away fromhim. “It’s a repair van, and it belongs to my cousin.” She sat on a toolbox and slid another one toward me with her foot, leaving Cam to sit crisscross on the van’s floor. Arnold turned a few circles and curled up to nap against his hip.
Cam unzipped his backpack and opened his laptop. As he waited for it to boot up, he dumped a pile of loose articles out of his bag—rolls of tape, batteries, a leather belt, and assorted electrical components. The duct tape screeched as he tore a strip off the roll.
“What is all that stuff?” Vero asked, pointing to the tangle of wires around his legs.
