Celine nods. “It’s horrible.”
“What about Detective Waters?” Zavier asks, and Ava fills him in on the details.
When she finishes, I stare down Zavier. “It wasn’t you, was it?”
“Me?” he asks, incredulously. “I don’t kill innocents, and I have a distinct signature. You’d know if it was me.”
Ava bites her lip. “Something feels off about this to me, you guys.”
Celine nods in agreement. “Genevieve is gone, but there’s still a lot of weirdness happening.”
Zavier pushes his glasses up his nose. “I can reach out to my contact and see if he knows anything.”
“That would be helpful,” Ava agrees with a grateful smile. “I’ll continue to keep an ear to the ground at work, and Valen will stay alert when he’s out and about.”
I hate to tell her, but the only place I spend much time other than the apartment is the library, and it’s unlikely I’ll find much that can help us there.
Concluding our visit, I lead a still tired Ava to bed. She complains that she doesn’t want to go since she took a nap but passes out quickly. My thoughts run wild as I go over everything that happened, but eventually I feel the pull of sleep myself. I allow Ava’s soft snores to lull me into darkness.
CHAPTER 29
AVA
A mess of ingredients,utensils, and recipes lay before me on the counter. Valen convinced me to strike off another item on our winter bucket list, and we’re baking cookies. It’s been a while since I’ve baked anything, and I’ve forgotten how messy it can be.
I’d spent the day at work, lost in my thoughts and struggling to stay awake. I’ve had a few dreams of my parents, and with everything going on, it’s like waiting for the other shoe to drop. Valen tried to lull me to sleep last night with his sweet lullaby, but it didn’t suffice. After picking up a latte from Luna’s shop both on the way in and out of work, I’m now hyped up on caffeine.
“This looks like a torture device.” Valen turns the pastry cutter this way and that. “I would know,” he adds, and I gasp in shock, having not expected that sort of comment from him.
“That’s terrible, Valen.” I’m glad he’s feeling good enough to joke about everything at this point. We haven’t gone intodetail about what all went on down there, but he seems lighter nowadays. “It’s for cutting the butter into the flour. I don’t think we need it for this recipe.”
I laid out a bunch of recipe options, and Valen chose the one that sounded best to him. Since he’s never had any of them, it was a shot in the dark, but he took my word for it and selected sugar cookies. Some might say it’s a basic option, but my mom’s family recipe is to die for and decorating them will be fun.
“Once we’re done with the dough, I have the perfect cookie cutters to use.” I grin and pull out my secret surprise from the cabinet. Holding it out to Valen, he takes it warily.
“What are these?” Upon closer inspection, he laughs. “Fangs? Bats?”
Bouncing on my feet, I pull a coffin shape out. “They’re cookie cutters. I know it’s the winter season, but I couldn’t resist when I found them online. We can have Halloween in December.” I grin. “Let’s get going on the dough.”
Valen is a great student and follows my instructions easily. He’s meticulous when measuring, leveling, and sifting out the cups of dry ingredients. I let him do the fun part, mixing them together. He’s mesmerized by my electric mixer, and I’ve forgotten once again how new everything is to him.
A bark comes from the bedroom, followed by distant scratching.
“Poor guy. I hate having to shut him away.” I pout.
Valen looks toward the door with a wry smile. “He wants to be in on the action. He would make it more chaotic, so we can unleash the beast after we’re done.”
Turning off the mixer, I give the dough one last stir with my spatula. “This looks perfect. Aren’t you excited to try it?” I take a deep whiff of the sugary dough and sigh as nostalgia hits me. “My parents and I made this every year, multiple times,might I add, because my mom’s recipe was so coveted. She said it’s the butter temperature and sifting the flour that makes it special.”
Valen watches me as I yap, a warm, fuzzy feeling entering my chest at the adoration shining in his eyes.
“What?” I ask, planting my hands on my hips.
He loops his arms around my waist and plants a kiss on the tip of my nose.
“You.”
“Me?”
