Page 65 of My Sister is Going to Kill Me

And then there was the mule. She supposed it was possible the animal had come along just as Charlie was returning from some unknown destination. But it had Babette’s kimono. When had Babette been separated from the mule? What if this man wasn’t Charlie at all, but one of Babette’s mysterious hiking companions? What if there really was a hit man and he’d murdered Charlie and was now coming down to . . . what? Kill Devon as well?

Liv stepped in front of Devon. She looked down. Most of the group was still way behind them, which was good. Whatever this man intended, whoever he was, Liv would be the first to confront him. She could feel the adrenaline buzzing in her fingertips. The man was moving faster now, blazing down the trail. His gait was so familiar. The closer he got, the more the itchy sense of recognition grew in Liv’s mind.

Not Charlie.

Not a hit man.

Someone else.

Oh no.

“What is it?” Devon asked. Liv hadn’t realized she’d voiced her concern out loud. “Is he hurt?”

Of course he wasn’t hurt. He was too lucky, too experienced at skating away from pain and responsibility, to ever get hurt. His footwork was sloppy from fatigue, his shins red and scraped. But the look of triumph on his face was unmarred. He stopped, cocked a smile, and put two fingers to his mouth, letting out a whistle loud enough to pull over every taxicab in the state of Arizona.

“That’s not my brother,” Devon whispered.

The man whistled again.

“I know.” Liv’s stomach was doing backflips now. Her face froze into a grim, false smile, the kind she would employ if she ever were to face a firing squad.

“Who is it?”

“It’s my father.”

“Your . . . who?”

His voice boomed across the shortening distance between them. “Livvie Lu!”

Liv closed her eyes. She had no clue how to process Guy Chisholm’s presence here, in this wild incorruptible place. But that didn’t stop him from bounding over.

“I am so glad to see you, baby.”

She opened her eyes. There he was, sunburned and smiling, arms stretched wide, blocking out the sun.

“No hug for your old man?” He chuckled, then lightly touched the sleeve of her gray T-shirt. “I suppose you always were formal.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Wild, right?” His smile looked slightly manic, strained. Or maybe that was just the heat. “I know, I know, this is one of your sister shindigs, and I won’t interfere, Scout’s honor, Dad’s honor, but—where is your sis? Who’s your friend?”

“I’m Babette’s sister.” Devon looked wary. “Did you hike down here with her?”

“That’s right. Almost killed me, but I made it.” He smiled almost shyly at Devon, as if humbled to be in her presence. “Dr. Devon. The botanist. Babette told me all about you. I’m a big fan of your work.”

His voice had turned cozy and interested, a bottomless jar of honey.

But Devon wasn’t looking for sweetness. She was looking for her siblings. “Where is Babette? And why did she bring you with her?”

“She isn’t here?” He rubbed his mouth for a moment, hiding a frown. He’d always told his daughters no one likes to see negative emotions, not even in the mirror. “Huh. And she must not have had the chance yet to tell you about her charming and brilliant investment advisor.”

“She has not.”

“I’m sure she’ll give you a glowing report.”

“I don’t need a report. I need Babette. Where is she? When did you last see her?”

“She’s not here yet? Really?”