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“I’ll...I’ll be right back.”
Mack had marched out of the kitchen and I’d been left sitting at the table with Gunnar. I stood up, my gaze darting from the empty entryway to the man still sitting with me.
“I need to go talk to him,” I said to Gunnar. “He’s...he’s upset.”
And irrational, I thought. I knew he wanted to hunt around for clues and start talking to people—he was an investigator, for crying out loud; it’s what he did for a living—but I also knew his current mood was not conducive to conducting a fair and impartial inquiry. In fact, I wasn’t sure he was ever going to reach that point since he was so intimately tied to the situation.
“Sure, sure,” Gunnar said, nodding.
I shoved the bag of muffins toward him. “Here, have some more. Eat all of them if you want.”
I hurried out of the kitchen. Mack was in the living room, pacing back and forth in front of the fireplace.
In his boxers.
“Mack,” I said as I approached him.
“Shh.” He held up his hand. “I’m thinking.”
“I want to help,” I told him.
He pivoted and headed the other direction. “I need to talk to the sheriff, figure out exactly what he knows. And I need to talk to that Tim kid, too.” His shoulders stiffened and I knew without seeing his face that he was probably scowling. “What is his connection to Miranda? When did he find the car?”
I agreed. We did need the answers to a lot of those questions, and more. But I was worried about his technique, and how he might go about trying to get the answers.
“I can help,” I said. “I want to.”
He’d swiveled on his heel and was now heading back in my direction. “That’s nice of you but I need to do this on my own.”
“You don’t know the people in this town,” I pointed out. “Or how they operate. I do.”
I also was Public Enemy Number One, at least in the sheriff’s mind, and probably not someone he would willingly share information with, but I didn’t offer this to Mack.
The truth was, I did want to help. And I did think I could be useful.
He stared at me for a minute, his cup of coffee still in his hand, the other perched on his hip. If the situation hadn’t been so serious, I would have burst out laughing. It was hard to take someone seriously when they were standing in the living room clad only in their underwear.
“No offense, Rainy, but I need to do this on my own.” He puffed out his chest a little, which only made him look even more ridiculous.
“Why?”
He set his coffee down on the table. “Because I’m planning to do whatever it takes to clean up this mess and clear my name.”
It was meant to sound threatening, tough, but I thought he just sounded ludicrous. Why turn down help when it was being offered?
I didn’t have time to argue with him—or point out the stupidity of his reasoning—because a car rolled into the driveway.
The sheriff’s car.
Mack’s back was facing the window so he was oblivious to the visitor.
And I wanted to keep it that way.
“Fine,” I said, returning my attention to Mack. “If that’s the way you want to do it.”
He nodded firmly. With his arms now folded across his chest and his legs slightly spread apart, his dark hair slightly wavy from lack of hair product, he looked a lot like an aging Superman.
Especially the underwear part.
“Why don’t you go get dressed?” I suggested. “Take a shower, even. Then you’ll be ready to start your...investigation.”
I didn’t really care if he did either of those things. I just wanted him out of the living room as quickly as possible.
Because I knew Sheriff Lewis was going to be knocking on the door soon.
And I wanted to be the one to talk to him.
The only one.