“Yeah, they’re still open. And they still make awesome tacos.”

  “That’s fantastic. Let’s say one?”

  “Cool. I’ll meet you at one.”

  We hung up and I sat staring at the wall. Kyra had painted it a rich yellow that contrasted with the dark cherry doorframe. The gallery walls were white, but in here we’d decided to indulge ourselves.

  I didn’t know what Marjorie wanted from me. Maybe that was why I couldn’t figure out what I wanted from her. It was like walking into that lunch with Clive on repeat. I couldn’t create a reaction until I knew what I was reacting to. I tried to go back to my spreadsheets, but I kept getting distracted and losing my place. A dangerous proposition with spreadsheets.

  Reyes stuck his head into the office. “You mind if we do our sweep in here?”

  “No. That’s cool.” I stood and grabbed the laptop. “I can work outside.” Since I was being so productive.

  “Is that your personal computer or does it stay here?”

  “Here. It’s the business computer.”

  “Better leave it. Electronic equipment is great for hiding bugs.”

  “Right.” Fucking Henry. “I guess I’ll go get a coffee then. You want anything?”

  “I wouldn’t say no to iced tea. Herbal. Something with rooibos in it,” Reyes said.

  I didn’t roll my eyes at him, which I thought was very big of me. “Rooibos iced tea. Got it.”

  Duarte walked in as I was repeating the order. “You doing a coffee run?” He seemed hopeful.

  “Yeah. What do you want?”

  “Hot coffee. Big, dark, and creamy. Nothing sweet.”

  “Okay, I thought Reyes sounded gay when he ordered, but that was next level gay.”

  “Since you prefer gay people, I’ll take that as a compliment.”

  “Touché, pal. Touché.”

  By the time I returned, the gallery was empty, but I heard voices out back. I followed them and found Kyra and the detectives in the yard.

  “Is that coffee for me?” Kyra eyed the big iced coffee in the cup tray I was carrying.

  “Of course it is. Did you think I’d bring coffee for the boys and forget you?”

  “I don’t know. You’re not cruel, but sometimes you’re forgetful.”

  “Fair point.” I set the tray on the table and handed out cups. “Does this mean you’re finished inside?” I asked Reyes.

  “Yep. Three cameras in the main gallery space. One in the office.”

  Kyra shuddered. I was tempted to join her.

  “No mics or any listening devices though,” Duarte said.

  “That’s good I guess.” It was better than good, honestly. It meant I didn’t need to re-examine my conversation with Kyra about my Laurel feelings. And more importantly, I didn’t need to re-examine the feelings themselves. Feelings were best left unexamined.

  “Hey, I know this blows, but don’t get dejected,” Duarte said. The pep talk didn’t do much for me, but the fact that he was trying helped.

  “Thanks, man.”

  “What are you up to this week?” Reyes asked. Why was everyone suddenly so interested in my schedule? “Inventing new ways to mess with the uniform outside your door?”

  “You got me. I love to torture rookie cops who are the only thing standing between me and an incensed ex-cop.”

  “She makes a decent point,” Duarte said.

  Reyes shrugged. “Sorry. It’s been a while since we actually talked. Aside from the gallery, what’s going on in your life?”

  I knew there had to be something happening in my life, but all I could think of was my plan to run off with Laurel and poke Henry’s grandmother to see if a bear would wake up. “Not much, I guess.”

  “Oh, before we forget, Ionescu suggested we check your car and house for bugs too,” Duarte said. “Do you mind?”

  “No, that’s fine.”

  Duarte checked his watch. It had a massive face and a floral motif. “We have a meeting in an hour, but we could do tomorrow.”

  “Oh, uh, actually I can’t tomorrow.” I stood. I used to be able to lie. I’d been a criminal, after all. “And you just reminded me I’ve got to go. Lane and I have a night planned and I need to go shopping for it.” Technically, that was true.

  “Okay. Just text me a good time, then,” Duarte said.

  “Right. Will do. Later, friends.”

  That went well. I played it hecka cool.

  ✥ ✥ ✥

  “Madam, I give you popcorn, three varieties of gummy candy—one sour—and four varieties of chocolate including two caramel chocolate, per your request.” I held out my hand palm up to frame the selection of candy. “I give you an unhealthy amount of Chinese takeout.” I shifted my hand to the other side of the coffee table. “I give you the gas station ice cream sandwiches that you are inexplicably obsessed with. We also have sparkling water and Mountain Dew.” I gestured toward the kitchen. “And the pièce de résistance, salt and vinegar chips with a five-pound bag of M&M’s.” I pointed to the bags next to Lane on the couch.

  Lane surveyed the spread with a keen eye. After a tension filled beat, she nodded. “This is acceptable.”

  I bowed. “For your viewing pleasure, Beverly has prepared a number of movie marathon selections. The Legally Blonde movies, Pitch Perfect movies, or reboots that anger men, e.g. Ghostbusters, Ocean’s 8.”

  “Oh, man. Is Beverly stalking me? Because that’s an excellent selection.”

  “Beverly pays attention.”

  “Since we are celebrating me surviving finals week, I’m going to have to go with Legally Blonde. I also like the positive sorority girl rep,” Lane said.

  “An excellent choice, miss. Though I must point out the irony that you were given the option to go out partying with your sorority sisters for this particular celebration, yet you chose to celebrate with me by watching sorority girls.”

  “The irony is noted.”

  “Then let’s go to Harvard Law.”

  I started the first Legally Blonde movie. As the living room turned a bright shade of pink, Lane started opening cartons of takeout. She handed me the kung pao and took the sweet and sour. Before digging into her carton she snagged a piece of my chicken with her chopsticks.

  “I have to make sure it’s not poison.” She popped it in her mouth.

  “So benevolent of you.” This was the disadvantage of not liking what she ordered, but her liking what I ordered. It was what I imagined having siblings was like. “Have you thought about your birthday?”

  “What about it?”

  “It’s coming up and I’m pretty sure your sorority sisters are dying to take you out for it.”

  She shrugged and studiously watched Elle brush her hair. “I know.”

  “And you skipped out on the group post-finals celebration to watch Legally Blonde with me.”

  “I’m trying to, but someone keeps interrupting.” She pointed at the TV then me with her chopsticks.

  I laughed. “I’m just saying. I mean, I’m down to hang, but this is kind of a big deal. Maybe you should live it up.”

  “It’s not really a big deal.”

  “Twenty-one is absolutely a big deal.”

  She finally turned to look at me. “I’m just freaked out.”

  “About what?” I was pretty sure I knew, but I figured I should ask.

  “Drinking in public.”

  I nodded. “Yeah. I get that. But you don’t have to drink in public.”

  “It’s my twenty-first birthday.”

  “So what? There’s no rule about drinking on your twenty-first birthday.”

  “You just said it was a big deal,” she said.

  “I did. But it’s the going out with your friends and celebrating the fall of the final bastion of childhood. It doesn’t have to be about getting drunk if you don’t want it to.”

  She nodded a bit. “I’ll think about it.” She shoved a bite of chicken in her mouth so she couldn’t talk.

  “That’s all I ask.”

  We made it through the first round of Chinese and Warner breaking up with Elle. When we hit the LSAT study montage, Lane dug into the gummy worms. She bit and stretched her first worm viciously before tearing its head off.

  “If I go out, will you be on call? You know, just in case?” she asked without looking away from the TV.

  “Yes. Of course.”

  “And I can turn on my location and you can make sure I’m okay?”

  “Yes, totally.”

  “Does that make me a complete wimp?”

  “Not even a little bit. I think you should go at your own pace for all this, but I also think you’ve been spending a lot of time with a retired drug dealer who is rapidly approaching thirty and probably not nearly as fun and willing to engage in dance parties as your sorority sisters. So maybe try that out for a bit.”

  “Shhh, Elle’s about to find out her LSAT score.” Lane threw a gummy worm at me.

  “Okay. Whatever.” I ate the gummy worm.

  “Thanks, Cash.”

  “Any time, pal.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  The driveway to Grandma Brewer’s house was around a blind turn. There was no mailbox, no sign, no fence. There was just a break in the trees and a narrow unpaved road. I turned and the sudden sound of the gravel shooting under my tires was overwhelming and loud. Or maybe that was blood rushing in my ears.

  I resisted the impulse to call Laurel and confirm that my wire was transmitting. It was. I’d pulled off at Clive’s fruit stand to check a few miles back. If it stopped working, she would call me. But I still wanted to call and check. I needed to do something to mitigate my nerves. I drove over a sketchy bridge with an anemic creek running under it. The driveway widened and became a turnaround. The house was modest and dark. I knew Henry’s grandfather had built the place, but it lacked the charm I was expecting. He must have built it in the early seventies. The roughhewn porch was covered in pine needles. The only bright spot was a vibrant green State of Jefferson flag, which didn’t exactly allay my fears. Fifty miles east or fifty years in the past would have made it a Confederate flag, but Northern California was a strange place.

  The door opened as I was stepping up on the porch. Based on Laurel’s description, I was expecting a shotgun-toting blue haired lady. Grandma Brewer was not that. Her shoulder length brunette hair curled under at the ends. A swath of freckles stretched across her cheekbones. She was wearing a linen shirt with small flowers embroidered along the neckline that matched the cornflower blue of her bright eyes. Hell, she was wearing Birkenstocks.

  “This property is private.” She smiled in a way that negated the heft of her statement.

  “I’m aware of that. I’m looking for Mrs. Brewer, Henry Brewer’s grandmother,” I said.

  She cocked her head questioningly. “That’s me. I’m Melody Brewer. How do you know my Henry?” She put out her hand.

  Henry Brewer’s scary-ass grandmother was named Melody? “We went to high school together. And I was his business partner.” I shook her hand and rushed to get my name out while she was still vulnerable. “I’m Cash Braddock.”

  She snatched her hand back. “Braddock? That drug dealer who framed my boy?”

  “I assure you I didn’t frame Henry. The same cop who came after him came after me.” I gave her a whisper of a smile and tried my best to look honest as I lied.

  “That fascist woman and her FBI team?”

  I indulged myself in the image of Laurel parked a couple of acres away in a cheap rental car listening to this separatist hippie calling her a fascist. I couldn’t help it. I laughed. “Yes, ma’am.”

  She glared. “Don’t ma’am me. You set my boy up.”

  “You’re right. I made a lot of mistakes. But I want to fix them. That’s why I’m here. Please just hear me out.”

  She crossed her arms and stared at me. I waited for her to speak. She waited for me. I broke first.

  “I was in a relationship with the fascist cop,” I said.

  “And you were fine with her being a fascist when you were dating her?”

  “I never really thought of her as a fascist until you said it, but I like the description. That’s definitely how I’m describing her from now on.” I grinned and hoped it was charming. “I think if I report the relationship, it will cause enough doubt to get them to drop the allegations against Henry.”

  Melody stared some more. And then she smiled. “Okay. I’ll hear you out.” She led me into the house. “Would you like some tea?”

  “I’d love some.”

  “Sit down. I’ll bring it out.”

  There was an overstuffed striped sofa and a set of wooden rocking chairs. I opted for one of the chairs that offered a direct sightline into the kitchen. A hallway led from the living room to the back of the house. Sunlight from the open back door illuminated most of the hallway. The dogs Laurel had mentioned started barking. Melody whistled sharply and they stopped.

  “Effective,” I said.

  “They drive me crazy, but they’re trained well enough.” She handed me a glass of iced tea.

  “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” She sat on the fluffy couch, tucked one of her feet under her, and took a sip of tea. “Now explain to me how exactly you plan to absolve Henry of the crimes your girlfriend accused him of.”

  “I believe I said I wanted to fix my mistakes. I didn’t claim any sort of absolution,” I said. She gave me a look that wasn’t very friendly. “Kallen and I were together for about six months. For the entirety of that relationship, I was her CI. I think Henry and I can use that to undermine every professional decision she made during that time. Including the veracity of her version of the night he allegedly tried to kill her.”

  Melody smiled and I experienced a whisper of the fear Laurel had told me about. “Now we’re getting somewhere.”

  “But I need to talk to Henry. And I think you can make that happen.”

  “Why do you think that?”

  I shrugged. “He’s a mama’s boy, but I think his mom is real mad that he sullied the family name. You’re the next in line. Plus, Kallen said they were never able to interview you because you were uncooperative. I’m finding a certain affection for people Kallen finds uncooperative.”

  “That’ll do,” Melody said.

  There was a creak on the front porch. That was my only warning before Henry opened the door.

  “Hey, Braddock.” He smiled at me like we were buddies who saw each other last week instead of one of us stalking the other for a year. Or at least, I thought he was smiling. He had a good start on a beard that obscured the lower half of his face. His blond hair was slicked back so tight it looked shaved. Between that and the short-sleeve plaid shirt buttoned all the way up, he looked like every Brooklyn white boy hipster. Leave it to Henry to manage to look trendy and also like everything wrong with cis men while he was on the run.

  I could see the damage Laurel had inflicted on him. There was a small laceration on the bridge of his nose. Purple bruises branched off his nose and curved under his eyes. They weren’t black all over like hers, but she had definitely broken his nose. His left pinkie and ring finger were buddy taped together. Bruises and scratches mottled his arms. Laurel was a goddamn hellion. I was so proud of her.

  “Oh fuck.” I stared at him for a minute before remembering that Laurel was listening in. If she hadn’t figured out what was happening, I needed her to know like right now. “Henry. What the hell are you doing here?”

  “You asked for me. I came.” He walked to the couch and leaned forward to kiss Melody’s cheek. “Hey, Nana.”

  “Have you eaten, baby boy? I can make you some lunch.”

  “Do you have any of that lemon vinaigrette left?”

  “I believe I still have some of those lemons you brought. I’ll fix it up.”

  “You’re the best.” He held out his right hand and helped her to her feet. She went into the kitchen and Henry leaned against the doorway leading to the hall. “So you’re finally ready to admit that I should have killed that cunt?”

  I took a deep breath and nodded. “Yeah. I want revenge on that bitch too. But for the record, your plan was a hot mess.” I wondered how long it would take Laurel to contact the local sheriff’s office. Maybe we should have run this scheme by her buddy at the FBI. I would have felt a lot better knowing an armed team of FBI agents were closing in on this house. Then again, neither of us expected Henry to show up in person.

  He made a noise of disagreement. “It would have worked if it weren’t for you meddling kids.”

  “She had half the Sac PD following her.”

  “Okay, maybe it was impetuous.”

  “You think?” Normally, I could get Henry to ramble. He was resisting that impulse.

  “It’s not like you were any help, dickwad.”

  “Well, I’m here to help now. But don’t go rogue on me. I hate when you force my hand,” I said.

  “Fine. What do you have in mind?” Henry asked.

  “Henry, did I put mint in the vinaigrette last time?” Melody asked.

  “Yeah. And feel free to be liberal with it,” he called.

  “Do you want to wait until after lunch?” I asked pointedly.

  “No, because you’re not invited to lunch. What’s your plan? It’ll take her about ten minutes to put together a salad. After that, I boot your ass.”

  “Whatever.” I took a leisurely drink of my tea. “I’m thinking I go on record with my sexual and romantic relationship with Kallen. We talk to a lawyer. Create doubt surrounding your case. Honestly, it shouldn’t be hard to discredit her. She was fucking a CI. Who knows what other laws she broke.”

  Henry nodded. “It’s a good start.”

  Jesus fucking Christ. Of course he wanted more. Where the fuck was Laurel? “What else do you have in mind?”

  “I think you need to retract any statements you made to the cops about me.”

  “Well, yeah, of course.”

  “This is why I told you not to join that institution.” Melody didn’t shout, but her voice carried just fine.

  “Your brother was a cop. Your son was a cop. Did you really expect your grandson to do anything different?” Henry made a face and rolled his eyes. He was being cute with his grandma. And he was letting me see it. More than anything, that convinced me he had bought my story.