“What the fuck?”

  She finally stopped typing and looked at the camera. “I already told you all this. It isn’t new.”

  “But I didn’t believe you.”

  She shrugged. “Okay. That’s kind of on you though. I was pretty straightforward.”

  “Seriously? That’s on me?”

  “Yeah.”

  I stared at the image taking up a quarter of my screen. The light was warm and crisp enough to show every angle and line on her face, but it still seemed washed out. I replayed every interaction we’d had in the last week, wondering if her vitality was simply gone or if it just didn’t travel via FaceTime. “You’re serious.” Apparently, eighteenth time was the charm for me.

  “Yes.”

  “I can’t deal with that right now.”

  “Okay.” She went back to working.

  “That’s it?”

  “What do you want? I told you exactly how I feel. I’m respecting your dumb boundaries. I’m not asking for anything.”

  “You don’t get to play that card. Announcing you’re still in love with someone isn’t a neutral statement. There are implied questions that accompany that declaration.”

  “Okay.” She tugged at the collar of her V-neck, then pulled it taut to scratch her shoulder. She was definitely not wearing a bra. So that was one mystery solved for the evening. What a relief.

  Chapter Eleven

  I woke up to someone making a lot of noise in my kitchen. Which would have been fine, but I’d been up until dawn and I was officially old enough that all-nighters made me feel hungover. I rubbed my eyes and looked at the clock. It was after eleven. I found Andy in the kitchen putting together my electric mixer.

  “Whatcha doing, tiger?”

  “Oh, hey. Good morning. How the hell does this go in here?” She handed me the mixer with one beater attached and the second, unattached beater.

  I took the mixer, ejected the beater, swapped them, and handed it back. “There.”

  “Thanks. I’m making waffles. But it’s Mom’s recipe. Do you remember Mom’s recipe? It’s been forever since she made waffles.” She pulled a clean dishtowel from the drawer and draped it over the bowl she was about to whip.

  “Why are you making them in my kitchen?”

  “Because I’m making them for you. Duh.”

  Well, that cleared that up. “Cool. I’m going to find pants.”

  Andy looked pointedly at my boxer briefs with elephants wearing sunglasses. “I think we would all appreciate that.”

  “Hey, punk. You’re in my kitchen.”

  “You don’t live alone,” she sang pointedly.

  “Lane doesn’t judge me for walking around in my underwear.”

  “Lane is nicer than me.” She started the mixer.

  “Whatever.” I went back to my room and pretended to get ready for the day. Cutoffs and a T-shirt I hadn’t been wearing for ten hours. I debated a hat or fixing my hair, but then it seemed like a lot of effort so I didn’t bother with anything.

  “Coffee’s ready.” Andy nodded at the pot when I walked back in the kitchen.

  “Thanks.” I poured a mug and sprawled at the table. “So to what do I owe this dubious honor.”

  “Waffles from scratch are not a dubious honor, dickwad. And I’m hoping you’ll help me put the final layer of varnish on the slats so Lane and I can install them next week.” She started folding whipped egg whites into a bowl of batter.

  “I would have done that without waffles, but I’ll take the bribe.”

  “You did tell me I should be able to cook five solid meals before adulthood. I’m killer at grilling, but I don’t have any breakfasts under my belt.” She stopped folding to look over her shoulder at me. “Unless pouring cereal counts. Does that count?”

  “It does not.”

  She went back to stirring. “Then I need a breakfast item.”

  “Can I do anything? Without infringing on your culinary autonomy, that is.”

  “You can get the waffle iron. I don’t know where it is.”

  “What if I don’t have one? You didn’t really think this through.”

  “You do. I’ve seen it. But more importantly, I could go get Mom’s.”

  “I stand corrected.” I pushed up from the table and went into the pantry. I opened the step stool and climbed to see the top shelf. The waffle iron was in a box behind my extra French press and an electric kettle I didn’t know I owned.

  “Your phone is ringing,” Andy called.

  “Will you answer it? Unless it’s an unknown.”

  “Who’s ‘Don’t be an idiot’?”

  Fuck. “Don’t answer.”

  “Hello? Cash’s phone, Andy speaking.” Of all the times for her to remember phone etiquette. “Excuse me?”

  I climbed off the stepladder and went back into the kitchen. “Andy.”

  “Why the fuck are you calling?” she asked.

  “Andy, don’t be rude,” I said.

  She shot me a look that was equal parts disgust and pity. “Cash wouldn’t work with you. You’re an asshole. Right, Cash? You wouldn’t be that dumb.”

  I decided to full name her. “Anderson Ward, you know better than to speak to anyone that way.”

  “Whatever.” She set the phone on the counter and walked out of the kitchen. I heard the back door open and close.

  “Fuck.” I picked up the phone. “Sorry about that.”

  “It’s okay,” Laurel said. “I take it she didn’t know I was back in town?”

  “It wasn’t intentional. I assumed Robin talked to her. Robin probably assumed I did.”

  “Shit. I’m sorry. I should have handled it differently.”

  “You didn’t do anything wrong,” I said.

  “I still feel bad.”

  “Don’t. What’s up?”

  “Oh, I was calling to let you know the plan for ditching Henry.”

  “You talked to Lance?”

  “Yep. He’s in. He’ll pick me up. We’ll go out to lunch at one of the breweries on sixteenth. There’s a car rental place with alley access. We’ll grab lunch, I’ll slip out the back and into the rental car.”

  “Perfect. When are you doing this?”

  “Saturday. Tomorrow. I’ll take 80 to Tahoe and stay the night.”

  “And I’ll go see the delightful Grandma Brewer the next day?”

  “Yep. Reyes will drop off a bag at Nate’s. Can Nate run it up to you? It’s got the wire I want you to wear and all the info for the grandmother’s house.”

  “I’m sure he can. Does this mean Reyes is signing off on this little plan?”

  “No. He thinks he’s dropping off books and clothes you left at my place.”

  I chuckled. “He’s going to be pissed.”

  “I’m okay with that.”

  “Did you talk to him about scanning for bugs in the gallery?”

  “Yeah. He’s going to call you today. I told him you wanted it checked right away,” she said.

  “Cool. Thanks.”

  “Of course.”

  “So it’s okay if Henry follows me, right? Because if he loses you, he’s probably going to be all over me,” I said.

  “Yeah. There’s a risk because he might intervene if he sees you going to his grandmother’s house.”

  “You said that before.”

  “I put a stun gun in the bag too. You know how to use a stun gun, right?” she asked like it was a totally normal skill.

  “Why the hell would I know how to use a stun gun?”

  “You were a drug dealer. It never occurred to you to use a weapon?”

  “My words are a weapon.”

  “Wow. Okay. Well, in case your words don’t work, there’s a stun gun. Push the button and touch him with the sparky end.”

  “What if he shoots me?” I asked.

  “He could do that now. Like literally right now. I didn’t think you were worried about it.”

  “I’m less concerned about Henry shooting me and more about Grandma Brewer shooting me, honestly.”

  “I mean, it’s a possibility. She’s kind of the worst.”

  “Oh, great. Thank you. I feel much better.” Shooting was no better than being pulled apart by killer dogs.

  She laughed, then got silent. “Does Andy hate me that much?”

  “No. She’s mad at me, not you.”

  “It sounded a lot like she was mad at me.”

  “Yeah, it kind of did. But she doesn’t have any context. I’ll tell her what’s going on. She’ll cool off. It’ll be fine,” I said.

  “You sure?”

  “You seem far more concerned with Andy’s opinion than mine or Lane’s or anyone else’s.”

  “I am. I like Andy better than the rest of you,” she said.

  Hard to argue that logic. “Yeah, that tracks.”

  “Let me know how it goes.”

  “With Andy? Or bugs at the gallery?” I asked.

  “Both, obviously.”

  “Right. Bye, Laurel.”

  “Bye.”

  I did a quick look around the kitchen to make sure nothing was plugged in and ready to catch fire before following Andy outside. She was sitting on the back steps staring out at the lumber stacked in the yard.

  “Hey, tiger.”

  “Why the fuck are you letting her back in?” Andy asked without turning around.

  I wanted to deny the allegation, but I wasn’t sure if I would be lying or not. “It’s a long story. I’d like to tell you if you let me.”

  “Are you back together with her? Because she’s an asshole. She’s out of free passes.”

  I sat on the step next to her. “Right there with you, pal.”

  “So why’s she back?”

  “I used to buy drugs from a guy named Henry Brewer,” I said.

  “How is that relevant to Laurel?”

  “Let me tell my story.”

  “Fine,” she said.

  “Henry was a sheriff in El Dorado County. He stole drugs from evidence and I sold them.”

  Andy turned from her study of the yard to blink at me. “You worked with a bad cop?”

  I nodded. “A real bad cop. When we realized Laurel was an undercover detective, Henry decided the best solution was to kill her. Nate and I disagreed. Henry sent Nate off with a task. Then he tied me up and went to go execute Laurel.”

  “Are you fucking serious right now?”

  “Yeah. He was a terrible person and we knew it, but we kept working with him. It was stupid and shortsighted,” I said.

  “So what happened? I mean, he obviously didn’t kill Laurel.”

  “No. Nate and I intervened in time. We didn’t realize her partner and half the police department were shadowing her.” I half-grinned. “If you ask Laurel, she was never in any real danger. Of course, Henry shot her so I respectfully disagree with her assessment.”

  “He shot her?”

  “Yeah. In the arm.” I pointed at my left bicep to show Andy where Laurel had been hit.

  “Whoa. That’s kind of wild.”

  “It is. Anyway, Henry got away. They never found him. That was almost a year ago. Last week, Laurel was hiking and Henry jumped out and tried to kill her again.”

  “Tried to kill her how?”

  “Umm. Well, he strangled her, she broke his nose. He stabbed her, she stabbed him. It was a whole thing. She’s fine, but he got away. It has since become apparent that he has been stalking both me and Laurel for months.”

  “What the fuck, dude?”

  I turned to look at Andy and realized she was crying. “Oh, man. I’m sorry. I should have been more delicate about that.”

  “Why are you worried about me? Shouldn’t you be surrounded by armed guards or something?” She swiped at her cheeks.

  “Can I give you a hug?”

  She sniffled and nodded. I put my arm around her and squeezed. After a minute, she relaxed.

  “Are you scared?” she asked.

  “Not really. I feel violated. He’s got cameras everywhere to watch me. Including inside the gallery, we think.” And the porch we were currently sitting on, but it didn’t seem prudent to tell her that. “He’s got cameras on Laurel’s car and where she was staying, but he also straight up stalked her. We’re pretty sure he didn’t spend much time tracking me. And, you know, he tried to kill her.”

  “So that’s why she called? To talk about the psycho stalking you guys?” Andy kept her head tucked under my chin.

  “Yeah. We’re trying to figure out where he is. Detective Reyes, Laurel’s old partner, wants to sequester us,” I said.

  “Sequester? Like hide you?”

  “Yeah, exactly. But neither of us want to give Henry the satisfaction of scaring us into hiding, I guess.”

  “That’s dumb. Just hide until they get him.”

  “They’ve been trying to get him for a year and haven’t succeeded. I don’t have an abundance of faith in law enforcement. And I’m not particularly keen on going into a safe house until they manage to find him.”

  Andy leaned away from me and straightened. “Oh, you dumbass.”

  “What? Why am I a dumbass?”

  “You don’t want to be stuck in a safe house with Laurel.” She rubbed the remnants of tears from her cheeks.

  “That’s not it at all,” I said. It sounded pathetic.

  “You still want her?”

  “Absolutely not. She was in town all of two minutes before she told me she made a mistake and wanted me back. I told her to take a hike.”

  “Isn’t that exactly what you wanted?”

  “Well, yeah. But I don’t trust her to not get scared again.”

  Andy shook her head. “You’re the one who taught me fear was a terrible guiding force.”

  “Okay, no. You don’t get to use my own words against me.”

  “Sorry, pal. Just did.” She stood and pulled her phone out of her pocket. She typed, then turned the screen to show me a message to Laurel. “Is this okay?”

  I’m sorry I was rude. I hope you’re okay.

  “Yeah, that’s perfect,” I said.

  Andy hit send. She walked back inside and called over her shoulder. “Waffles will be ready in fifteen.”

  Chapter Twelve

  “Detective Reyes, Detective Duarte.” I locked the gallery door after letting them in.

  “Ms. Braddock, thanks for letting us look around,” Reyes said.

  “Of course. I understand you think Henry might have some sort of surveillance equipment here?” This farce was strange, but if Henry had mics, I wanted him to think this was legit. It was good I didn’t know where his cameras were. I would have compulsively stared at them.

  “We would at least like to rule it out,” Reyes said.

  Duarte set a small tool bag on the ground and started unpacking it. “Is there anything we can’t touch in here?”

  “All of the artwork, obviously. I’ll grab some gloves for you in case you need to touch the walls.”

  “Great, thank you,” he said.

  I ducked into the office and snagged two pairs of cotton gloves. When I came back out, Reyes was itemizing the vents, smoke detectors, basically anything disrupting the wall space. “Here.” I held out the gloves.

  “Thanks.” Reyes took them.

  “Do you guys need anything from me? I have some work to do in the office.”

  Reyes looked up from his list. “Nope. When we’re done out here, we would like to take a look in there, if you don’t mind.”

  “Not at all. We open at noon today. It would be great if you finished out here before then.”

  Reyes looked at his watch. He’d said they would arrive at ten and the man was disgustingly punctual. It was 10:07. “We’ll be done well before noon.”

  “Kyra will probably be in around eleven. Just a heads-up,” I said. They nodded and started playing with sci-fi looking tools. I went into the office and started filling in spreadsheets Kyra had left for me. I’d been adamant that I wouldn’t do any sort of paperwork when we started this business, but apparently my coded drug inventory tracking system had prepared me well for such a task. I was quite disappointed in myself.

  Twenty minutes later, I was in the zone. And according to the neat lines of numbers on the screen, we were doing well. My phone started buzzing in the continuous way that meant it was ringing. It was too early for Van or Kyra and they both had keys. I dug it out of my pocket. Marjorie.

  “Hello?”

  “Hi. Hello. Cash?”

  “Yeah.” I stood, unsure of what to do with myself. “How’s it going?”

  “Okay. I’m all right.”

  “Cool.” Back to my single word. I sat again.

  “I was wondering if we could get lunch this week? I enjoyed meeting your friend, but I was really hoping for some one-on-one time.”

  I probably should have seen that coming. I thought about the conversations I’d had with Nate and Robin about spending time with Marjorie and I couldn’t think of a reason to say no. “Sure. We could do that.”

  “Great. That’s great. What does your schedule look like this week?”

  I rarely had a schedule, let alone any idea what it looked like. “Umm, open I guess.” That wasn’t true. I had to shake down an old lady. “Except tomorrow. I’ve got a thing tomorrow.”

  “Okay. The day after tomorrow then? Some place downtown?”

  “Sounds good. Any lunch preferences?” I shifted the small stack of papers on the desk like I was going to write it down. As if I couldn’t remember lunch with my mother.

  “Oh, I don’t know. Let’s keep it simple. Do you like tacos? There used to be a little taco stand up Sixteenth. I doubt it’s still there, but something like that.”

  “That little outdoor taqueria with the huge Jarritos sign? Jalisco, I think.” As if that didn’t describe about twenty-three different taquerias. But there was only the one on Sixteenth.

  “Yes, that’s the one.” She sounded far more excited than a little taqueria warranted, but the tacos were pretty great.