Page 70 of You'll Be Sorry

The detective began: “I have a few questions—”

“Of course you do!” she interrupted smoothly. “And as the current homeowner of the Dixon estate, I’m happy to assist.”

Mason still appeared perturbed.

While the detective nodded agreeably. “Absolutely. And I have so many inquiries.”

That did not bode quite so well.

“Check the bookshelves,” Raquel soothed Mason. Then, before the man could protest, she grabbed the state investigator’s arm and got the hell out of there.

“You’re a good liar,” Detective Adams said as they bustled down the sidewalk.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“And just like that, you prove my point.”

She ignored him. Her thoughts were churning. She was usually very good at this sort of thing: assess a situation, strategize the solution, then proceed full steam ahead, adapting on the fly as necessary. Now, however, she felt a little dazed. And tired. Possibly bordering on overwhelmed.

After the past few days, she just wanted a moment to regroup.

Actually, she wanted to go home and crawl into Theo’s arms. He wasn’t just a person; he was a place, a state of being she’d never experienced before and would never know again. She missed that feeling now.

“So who did I just save you from?” Detective Adams was asking. He’d fallen in step beside her. Raquel had no idea where she was headed. Mostly, she’d picked a direction away from the church. Now she worked on settling down as she realized she was forcing the detective to move at an uncomfortable clip.

“Mason. He’s the president of the historical society, and overall town busybody. After the discovery of the well, he was at our house even before most of the responding officers. Oh—and he’s really into crockery.”

“Crockery?”

She provided a brief overview.

“So, crockery. Fascinating. Are you headed anywhere in particular?”

“Umm…” They were just passing the local deli. “Coffee?”

He wasn’t fooled for a minute. “That’s my ride.” He pointed at a boring-looking dark sedan. “How about I give you a lift to your car. And in return, you can tell me all about this journal you’ve got stashed in your bag.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Now, now, we both know you’re a better liar than that. I feel slightly insulted by the lack of effort.”

That finally got her to laugh. “All right, guilty as charged. So, you work in the cold case unit. In other words, you’ve spent your career, such as it is”—she pegged his age at somewhere around her own—“on the Dixon case.”

“Holy grail of the unit,” he agreed.

“Have you ever seen the house in person?”

He nearly suffered a misstep, which made her feel guilty, given his slightly uneven gait.

“Take me to my car. Then…” She shrugged. “What the hell. Most of law enforcement has been on the property. You might as well join the party.”

“I haven’t forgotten about the journal,” he warned. “But I accept your attempt at distraction, as long as you accept that I will be cycling back.”

“Duly noted. You know anything about my husband, Theo Collins?”

“Why do you ask?”

“Because seriously, I can’t wait for the two of you to meet.”