TWO WEEKS LATER, Lana parked behind Chip’s vehicle in the driveway of the home she now shared with him and released an exhausted sigh of relief. Her tour hadn’t been particularly difficult, but the extra time it took to switch vehicles at the beginning and end of each shift seriously ate into her day.
She checked the time on her phone, hoping to beat yesterday’s record, and groaned. Five forty-three. The turnaround had taken her longer today than last night.
She felt displaced, as if she couldn’t call either residence her home.
Lana noted two voice mails from her mother, but ignored them. No sense listening. She knew exactly what message Mom had left. She demanded an update on the status of her investigation into Dan’s murder.
Shaking her head, Lana exited the car. She had nothing to report. She’d made zero progress on her investigation into Gary Shotwell. Oh, she waved at him occasionally, yelled a greeting, and Chip had had a few conversations, but they’d learned nothing illuminating other than that he spent a lot of time at a local gym. Gary was a pretty private guy.
Except after dark, when he became very popular.
On her way to the front door, she glanced over to his home. All was quiet there for now. But after 10:00 p.m., cars would begin arriving. On Friday and Saturday nights, as many as ten would show up. The drivers wouldn’t stay long, though. Twenty minutes so far was the longest anyone had remained.
From the looks of it, Gary sold something out of his home. Dealt in something illegal. Whatever he sold was small, though, so most likely drugs. Was it pot, pills, heroin?
Or maybe steroids?
Every night after dinner, when Chip returned to his bedroom to read, she positioned herself with binoculars at a window in a darkened room to note the buyers’ times of arrival, and record the license plates and times of departure. She intended to turn the information over to her department’s vice squad.
If she couldn’t get the goods on Gary for murder one, perhaps she could send him to prison for trafficking.
But she wasn’t ready to give up on her cold case. Not yet. She’d invited Gary to come over tomorrow to watch the Dolphins play New York. She’d told him to bring a date, but didn’t know if he intended to.
She opened the mailbox by the front door and scooped out the contents. Without looking, she knew everything was for Chip. For now she got her mail at her old apartment, when she changed out of her uniform.
She pushed open the front door and yelled, “It’s me.”
She dropped her purse and the mail on the pass-through between the living room and the kitchen, hoping Chip was ready for a break.
He yelled something unintelligible from his room, which she took to mean he’d be at his books a little while longer.
Funny how much she looked forward to seeing him each night. She’d discovered she liked having someone to talk to at the end of her shift. He was always in his bedroom, studying, but would emerge to say hello and ask about her day. She’d ask about his and hear his latest complaints about hundreds of pages of reading and grumpy Professor Nichols, his law-school nemesis.
And if he’d seen Gary, she’d learn about that, too. They talked about the case, how they weren’t making much progress.
Lana sighed and opened the refrigerator. Wondering about dinner, she removed a soda. Tonight was her night to cook. They took turns preparing a simple evening meal, which they usually ate while watching the news in front of the huge new flat-screen television they’d purchased jointly. Chip had scoffed at the tiny TV in her apartment and had insisted they needed something larger to lure Gary over to watch football.
She’d had to agree, but her half of the cost had emptied her savings account, which she’d planned on using to buy a surveillance camera to keep track of Gary’s visitors 24/7. Now she’d have to wait a couple of paydays to afford the system she wanted. She took a draw on the soda and glared at the giant, empty screen.
Chip had sold some sort of a surfboard to obtain his half of the money, but had two more stored in the garage—along with a variety of dinged-up skateboards and other gear—so she doubted if he’d miss the one he had sold. If he kept selling his gear, maybe they’d even be able to squeeze in a car someday.
Her ringtone broke the silence in the room. Lana checked the readout and answered. “Hey, sis.”
“You up for visitors?” Sandy asked. “I’m dying to see your new place, and this is the first free moment I’ve had.”
Lana plopped onto the rented sofa that had arrived the same day as the new television. “Are you bringing my adorable nephew?”
“Nah. I thought I’d leave him home to fend for himself. He’s four now. He’ll be fine.”
Lana grinned, looking forward to seeing Mike. “Where’s Brady?” she asked.
“Working late.”
“How would you feel about picking up a pizza for dinner?”
“Sounds great,” Sandy said. “I’ll stop by Paoletti’s. Is Chip home?”
“Yes.”
“Then I’d better order two.”
An hour later, Sandy arrived with two pizza boxes and a rambunctious four-year-old in tow. Lana took the warm boxes from her sister’s arms as Mike rushed into the house, announcing he was starved.
“This house is so cute,” Sandy said, looking around. “I love the front porch.”
“Yeah, but we hardly ever get the chance to use it,” Lana said.
“You need a swing.”
Stretching his long, muscled arms high overhead, Chip appeared. Lana smiled at him and got a grin in return. She suspected he’d been lured out of his den by the smell of Paoletti’s famous garlicky sauce. Or maybe it was the sound of visitors. He’d asked her several times when her sister would come for a visit.
“Sandy,” he said, moving toward her. “Wow, it’s been a long time.”
“Too long,” Sandy said, giving him a big hug. “How are you?”
“Doing good. And who is this?” Chip asked, looking down at Mike.
“My son, Michael,” Sandy said. “Can you believe I have a kid?”
“Hey, little man,” Chip said, squatting before him. “I remember your mother when she was your age.”
Mike gazed at him with wide eyes. “Are you the one with the skateboard?”
“Yes, sir.”
“You taught my mother how?”
Chip laughed. “A long time ago.”
“Can you teach me?”
Chip glanced at Sandy. “If your mother says it’s okay.”
“Please, Mom,” Mike pleaded.
“I thought you were starving,” Sandy said.
Mike nodded. “That’s right. I am.”
Everyone laughed, and Lana brought out cold sodas, plates and napkins. They still didn’t have a table, but sat around the living room, catching up and feasting on mushroom-and-pepperoni pizza. Afterward Mike reminded his mother about the possibility of a skateboard lesson.
“Okay, Mom?” Chip asked.
“Just promise you won’t kill him,” Sandy said.
“Don’t worry,” Chip said. “He’ll be wearing a helmet. Be right back.”
By the time Chip had decked out Mike in a helmet, protective knee pads and elbow pads, it was almost dark. Mike was beyond excited when Chip handed him the smallest skateboard he owned to carry outside.
The twilight held a hint of fall as Lana and her sister sat on the porch steps with iced tea to observe the lesson. Not quite cool, but not blistering hot, which was a treat for Miamians who were longing for a relief from the sticky weather.
“Mike looks ridiculous in that oversize gear,” Sandy said.
“At least he won’t get hurt,” Lana said, watching Chip demonstrate for her nephew how to mount the board.
“And look at The Chipper,” Sandy said. “Man, who knew he would turn out to be so hot?”
“You should see him when he returns from his morning jog,” Lana said.
“Hot and sweaty?” Sandy asked.
Lana grinned. “And six-pack abs.”
“So, how is it going?” Sandy asked after a sip of her tea.
“Not much luck yet,” Lana said. “But Gary is coming over tomorrow to watch the Dolphins game. I’ve bought a lot of beer and am hoping to learn something then.”
“I’m not talking about your murder investigation,” Sandy said.
Lana swiveled her head. “What are you talking about?”
“Your relationship with Chip. Now that you’re living together, things have to be different.”
Lana shrugged. “We’ve had some rocky patches, but we’re getting along.”
“Rocky patches? Are you guys doing it yet?”
“No!” Lana rolled her eyes. “We’re friends.”
“I’ll bet you’re friends with benefits before long.” She motioned with her chin. “If I weren’t married, I’d be all over that.”
Lana remained silent, not wanting to reveal that on the days he didn’t have class, she’d made it part of her morning routine to ensure she saw Chip in his workout gear. Usually the highlight of her day.
“I’ll bet he didn’t much like being a suspect.”
“Not much,” Lana agreed.
“Of course, I knew he didn’t kill anybody, much less our brother. Was he pissed?”
“Yeah, but he got over it.”
“Chip’s a good guy,” Sandy said with a nod. “Look how patient he is with Mike. He’d be a good dad.”
“Yeah, he would.” Lana remained quiet for a moment, watching Mike’s awkward progress. “Have you told Mom about my new living arrangements?”
“No way is that coming from me,” Sandy said. “You haven’t told her?”
“Not yet. She still insists Chip murdered Dan.”
“I know. She told me.”
“Does Mom still watch Mike when you go in the field?” Lana asked.
“Couple of times a week.”
“How is she doing?”
“The same,” Sandy said.
Which meant their mother couldn’t stop complaining about how badly life and an abusive ex-husband had treated her. She and Sandy loved their mom, and they agreed she’d gotten a raw deal. She also refused to let go of Dan. Being around her was exhausting and depressing, and Mom wouldn’t take any steps to help herself. Lana sighed. Obsessed with solving Dan’s murder, am I on track to end up just like her?
“She mentioned you hadn’t returned her calls,” Sandy said.
“When I do, she demands to know about my progress. It’s been maybe a week.”
“She said two.”
Lana shrugged. “Possibly.”
“You need to call her.” Sandy lifted her long dark hair off her neck to take advantage of the breeze, and the sisters lapsed into companionable silence. They’d had this conversation hundreds of times.
“I need to ask you something,” Lana said. “You need to be honest.”
“Of course.” Sandy shot her a look. “It must be important with that kind of a lead-in.”
“It is.”
“O-kay,” Sandy said cautiously, drawing out the word.
Lana took a deep breath. “Did you ever see Dan bully anyone, act mean to anyone?”
When Sandy didn’t answer, Lana closed her eyes. Why didn’t I see it?
“I was so much younger that Dan pretty much ignored me, so I never saw anything like that. But...” Her sister paused as if she didn’t want to voice her thought.
Lana stared at Sandy, steeling herself for what she was about to hear. “But what?”
Sandy didn’t look at Lana as she sipped her tea. “I was a little afraid of Dan.”
“What? You never told me that.”
Sandy shrugged. “He was so big. In my mind, he was just like our father.”
“TOUCHDOWN!”
Chip whooped as Gary leaped to his feet, throwing both arms into the air when the wide receiver for the Dolphins sped into the end zone.
Chip grinned at Lana, who reached over to give him a stinging high five.
“About damn time,” Gary announced, and took a long pull on his beer, emptying the can.
Chip had lost count of how many brews their neighbor had consumed, and the game wasn’t even half over. Plus Gary had arrived in a great mood and already high on something.
But he’d come alone and only had to walk next door, so no harm, no foul. Lana wanted him loose, but if he got much looser, he’d pass out.
She came to her feet as Gary settled back on the sofa. “Let me get you another beer.”
“Thanks,” Gary said.
“Chip, do you need anything?” she yelled from the kitchen.
“A soda would be great,” Chip called back.
Lana’s big plan was a bust so far. Up to now, their conversation had revolved around Gary’s job, Chip’s studies and the fact that the Dolphins didn’t have much of an offense. Other than being more talkative than Chip had ever seen him, Gary hadn’t exhibited any strange behavior, and Lana hadn’t once tried to bring up the subject of high school.
She was playing it cool, but he suspected she’d find a way during halftime, when she planned on serving fried chicken and potato salad. She’d even baked brownies for dessert, making the house smell like chocolate heaven all morning.
He lifted his left hand and stared at the heavy championship ring. Lana had asked him to wear it, hoping to elicit a reaction from Gary. Gary had glanced at the ring a couple of times, but so far hadn’t said a word about it.
Chip couldn’t remember the last time he’d put on the ring. He didn’t like wearing it.
The ring always reminded him of Dan.
Lana returned from the kitchen and handed another beer to Gary, who mumbled his thanks.
Chip grinned at her when she sat beside him with his soda, and she nodded encouragingly. He knew what that meant. She wanted him to kiss her.
He leaned over and gave her a light peck on her cheek.
“Thanks,” he murmured, as he took the cold soda from her hand. He settled against the sofa next to her and popped the tab, creating a quick icy spray.
She blinked and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear.
Chip smiled, knowing she’d expected a kiss with a lot more heat. Too damn bad. Kissing Lana was a dangerous game, one he enjoyed far too much. One he’d decided not to play anymore.
Each time he kissed her, he found it harder and harder to stop.