Suddenly, plotting murder didn’t seem so hard. At the very least, it seemed easier than figuring out how not to murder someone in real life. Because when the doorbell rang at eight thirty on Saturday morning, I was irritable enough to try.
Honestly, I was surprised Steven had bothered to use the doorbell at all. Maybe Vero’s lecture had sunk in. Either that, or the key she’d thrown in the diaper pail had truly been his only one. I nursed a cup of coffee as I padded stiffly to the door.
“You’re early,” I droned into my mug as I drew it open. “The kids aren’t—”
Nick leaned against the doorframe, freshly shaven and his hair still damp from a shower, a grin taking hold as he took in my disheveled state. “Good morning to you, too.”
I smoothed a hand through my hair, then clutched the front of my robe to hold it closed over the same sweat-soured clothes I’d been wearing the night before. “Sorry, I thought you were Steven. What are you doing here?” I pressed my mouth shut; I hadn’t even brushed my teeth yet.
“Came to see how you’re doing after last night.” His eyes dipped to my neck, and I reached to cover the nick Andrei had given me. The tiny scab was hardly noticeable this morning, but I’d just as soon forget the whole experience. Nick’s brow furrowed, his usual easy smile turning down at the edges. “How’d you sleep?”
“I didn’t. Much.” Under the pressure of my looming deadline and countless emails from my agent, I’d been up working until three. I’d hardly been conscious enough to remember to send my latest batch of work to Sylvia before crashing in my clothes.
Nick hooked a thumb over his shoulder, toward an unmarked car parked just down the street. “You can rest easier tonight. Officer Roddy’s keeping an eye on the place. Feliks won’t get within five hundred feet without me knowing about it.”
Great. Just what I needed. Maybe Officer Roddy and Mrs. Haggerty could have tea and share notes.
Nick raised an eyebrow. He bounced lightly on the heels of a pair of dress shoes. He’d ditched his usual dark jeans and Henley for a pair of steel-gray slacks and a button-down shirt. “You up for a little field trip?”
“Is that a euphemism?”
“Only if you want it to be.”
I rolled my eyes at him over my coffee and gestured for him to come in. He followed me into the kitchen.
“Good morning, Detective,” Vero said over her reading glasses and her textbook. “Help yourself to some coffee. Mugs are above the pot.” She checked him out under her long lashes and mouthed “so hot” to me while his back was turned.
“Where are we going?” I asked, feeling a little crotchety. I didn’t care how good Nick looked. Every time he showed up on my doorstep, I was just grateful he wasn’t holding a pair of handcuffs and a warrant.
Nick pulled a mug from the cabinet. “Got any milk?”
“In the fridge,” Vero said, running a highlighter over her textbook page without looking up.
“I’ll get it—” I held my breath as he beat me to the fridge, pausing in front of the open door.
“I got a call from a tech at the lab,” he said, plucking the carton of milk from the shelf. I offered up a silent prayer of thanks that there hadn’t been a bag of cash wedged under it as he splashed some in his mug. “I’m heading over this morning to pick up his report. I thought you might want to come along.”
Vero glanced up at the mention of the lab. “You go ahead,” she said. “I’ll stay with the kids.”
“But you’ve got your exams to study for.”
“Steven’s picking them up soon. The house will be quiet.”
“But—”
“You really shouldn’t pass up a visit to the lab,” she said firmly. “You might learn something interesting. You know, for your book.” She placed a particular emphasis on this last bit.
“Okay,” I conceded, infusing each word with the same added weight. “I’m sure you’ll be fine here, since Nick has Officer Roddy doing surveillance just outside.”
Vero’s mouth formed a soft oh. “That’s so thoughtful of him.” She glanced sideways out the window, lifting a little in her seat to see Roddy’s car. “Why don’t you go get ready? I’ll keep Detective Anthony company.” She shooed me upstairs, ignoring my protests. “So tell me about this Officer Roddy. Is he single?” I heard her ask as I shut myself in my room.
Great. This was just great. Knowing Nick, he probably had an officer stationed outside Theresa’s house, too. But Vero was right. I’d learn more about the status of the investigation sitting in his car than I would watching it play out from my window.
I hopped in a fast shower, towel-dried my hair, swiped on some mascara and gloss, and stood in my towel in front of the closet. My wardrobe consisted mostly of sweatpants and T-shirts, so I was surprised to find my only pair of black slacks, cleaned and pressed, hanging beside a crisp white button-down shirt that Vero must have washed and ironed for me. I dragged them on, nearly tripping myself as I rushed to sling on a pair of low heels. If we were going to a forensics lab, I should at least look like I’d arrived in the front of a police cruiser, rather than the back of one.
I descended the stairs, fishing around for the holes in my ears with the posts of the diamond studs Steven had bought for me on our first anniversary. I hadn’t worn them since the divorce, and I was surprised to find the holes in my lobes hadn’t closed completely.
Nick and Vero glanced up as my heels clicked into the kitchen. Vero looked confused. “I’m sorry. Do I know you? Because I thought I worked for a vampire in yoga pants.”
Ignoring her, I turned to Nick. “Ready to go?”
He wore a crooked smile as he rose from his chair, his gaze falling into the deep V in my blouse. “Is that a euphemism?”
Heat bloomed over my chest and I turned sharply for the door.
Vero snickered into her textbook. “Have her home before dark, Detective. Finlay has a book to work on.”
“We’ll be back in a few hours,” I called over my shoulder.
The children’s duffels were already packed and waiting in the foyer. The sight of them left me feeling a little untethered. I was pretty sure I’d never get used to this. Nick waited as I pasted on a convincing smile and gave them each a kiss good-bye. Delia’s peach-fuzzy hair was soft against my chin. Zach’s pudgy cheeks smelled like Cheerios and warm milk and I breathed them in. “Be good for your daddy, and I’ll see you on Monday morning, okay?”
I swiped my eyes. When I threw open the door, Steven was standing in front of me, his hand poised to knock. I darted a panicked glance into the windshield of his truck, thankful Theresa and Aimee weren’t in it.
Steven’s jaw tensed as he looked over my shoulder at Nick. Nick came around me and extended a hand. Steven took it reluctantly.
“Who’s this?” he asked me.
“That’s Nick,” Delia answered from the living room, dragging her naked Barbie around by the hair. “He’s a friend of Aunt Georgia’s.”
“Oh, yeah?” Steven’s smile was bitter under his ball cap, his tight fists punching an outline through the pockets of his sweatshirt.
“He and Mommy are dating.”
My eyes flew wide as I realized how this must look to him. I couldn’t remember the last time Steven had seen me wear makeup. Or anything other than pajamas, for that matter. I gestured to Nick. “We’re not … I mean, he’s not…”
“This is the attorney?” Steven glowered, his blue eyes raking over Nick with a look of disgust.
“No,” Delia said. “He’s a policeman. Like Aunt Georgia.”
I pulled Steven aside and said in a hushed voice, “You know Delia. She has no idea what she’s saying.”
“Why do you all keep saying that?” Delia huffed.
“Don’t forget to feed Christopher,” I called back to her.
“Christopher?” Nick asked, leaning close enough for his breath to warm the shell of my ear as Steven glared at him.
“Her goldfish,” I answered.
Delia padded into the foyer and tugged on her father’s sleeve. “Can we go get Sam today?”
Steven screwed up his face. “Who’s Sam?”
“The doggy at the shelter.” She gazed up at him with pleading eyes. “Aaron told me I could adopt him. But Mommy said since Christopher already lives here, Sam will have to live at Theresa’s house.”
Steven gritted his teeth. “She did, did she?”
“We should go,” I said, surprised when Nick’s hand found the small of my back on the way to the door. He smirked, making a grand gesture of holding it open for me as I blew kisses to my kids and told them I’d see them on Monday. I saw Steven’s face watching us through the window as Nick opened the passenger-side door for me. In my rearview mirror, Mrs. Haggerty’s curtains fluttered like a ghost. Nick got in and started the car.
“So,” he said, “tell me about this attorney.”
I spent most of the drive to the lab dodging Nick’s questions about my love life. Everything that came out of my mouth was the truth; I wasn’t dating an attorney. Not technically. Technically, I wasn’t dating Julian or Nick. But knowing Nick, he would probably investigate my claims himself. And I hoped that investigation wouldn’t take him back to The Lush.
By the time we pulled into the parking lot, I was grateful for the distraction. Nick clipped a visitor badge to the collar of my shirt, then clipped one to his.
“What are you expecting to find?” I asked as we crossed the bright two-story lobby of the regional forensics lab.
Nick headed for a set of long, winding stairs, nodding at the lab techs as we passed and greeting them by name. He waited until they were out of earshot before answering. “When we tailed Feliks and Theresa, they drove to four different properties without stepping foot on a single one of them. They never even stopped the car. But there was soil and grass stuck to the undercarriage of Feliks’s Lincoln that day. Which means they’d been off-roading somewhere pretty recently.” Nick’s pace quickened as he climbed the stairs, his focus sharpening. “My guess is he’s found a piece of land already, or at least one he’s seriously interested in. If I can figure out where it is and how it’s zoned, I can probably guess what he’s planning to do with it. Or at least be one step ahead of him when he buys it.”
“Why?”
“Feliks never records the deeds in his own name. He uses straw men or dummy corporations, which makes his holdings harder to find. If I know what name he’s using as a front when he buys this lot, I might be able to use that information to track down a few others.”
“And do what?”
“Raid them. See what kind of dirt I can turn up.”
“What does that have to do with Theresa and Harris Mickler?”
“Maybe nothing. But I’d love to find a reason to bring Feliks into the station, stuff him in an interrogation room, and find out.”
Nick’s long legs ate the stairs two at a time, his pace eager as we neared the top.
“And the guys in the lab can figure all this out with a piece of dirt?” I asked, struggling to keep up.
“I wasn’t sure. It seemed like a long shot, but the call I got this morning sounded promising.” Nick pushed open a door and held it open for me. He led us to a lab at the end of the hall and rapped on the window glass. A tech in a white coat waved us inside.
“Hey,” the tech said, meeting us halfway into the room and extending his hand to me. “Finlay Donovan, wow!” His handshake was enthusiastic and more than a little sweaty.
“I’m sorry,” I said with a puzzled glance at Nick, then back at the tech. He was young, cute in a geeky, awkward sort of way. He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. Even when I could see through them more clearly, I couldn’t place how we knew each other. “And you are?”
“Oh, right!” He shook his head, giving himself a playful slap on the forehead. “Sorry, I’m Peter. We’ve never met. But Georgia’s told me all about you. I’m a huge fan, actually.” He wiped his palm on his lab coat, his ears flushing pink. He snuck a peek at Nick and leaned toward my ear, confiding in a low voice, “I’ve read your books.”
“Oh! So you must be the one.” I laughed as Peter’s face fell. “I’m kidding.” I pitched my voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “There are at least two of you.” The corner of Peter’s lip pulled up with an uncertain smile. “Seriously, I’m kidding.”
He released a nervous laugh. “Nick told me you might be coming. I was wondering if you’d sign an autograph?”
“Sure,” I said through a blush. No one outside my family had ever asked me for an autograph before. “Why not?”
Nick gave a reticent shrug, but I could tell he was anxious to get what we’d come for and his patience was wearing thin. Peter pulled a dog-eared paperback and a Sharpie from the pocket of his lab coat. Nick glanced at the bulging pecs of the model on the cover and heaved an impatient sigh as I scribbled a quick signature in it. Peter studied my face as I handed him back his book.
“You don’t look anything like your picture,” he said, thumbing to my bio page. “You know, the one in the back of the book? You’re blond in your photo. And with the dark glasses, it’s sort of hard to see your face.” He held up the photo, scrutinizing my features against my headshot. My scalp itched, and I tucked my hair behind my ear. “If I didn’t know you were coming, I totally wouldn’t have recognized you.” I avoided looking at Nick as he glanced over Peter’s shoulder at my photo, then checked his watch. “You probably wear a disguise so you won’t be recognized in public and get swarmed by your fans, right?”
“Right,” I said with a nervous laugh. Or be recognized when I’m abducting scary rapists from bars, breaking into real estate offices, or taking contracts to kill problem husbands while eating cheesecake in Panera. Through all of this, I had never stopped to consider that my headshot—which appeared in every copy of my books—was now an incriminating piece of evidence against me. Or that Nick could use it to place me at The Lush.
“Georgia said you have a new book coming out. I can’t wait to read it. If you ever have forensic questions, I’m your guy. I’ve always wanted to—”
“Pete,” Nick barked. Pete turned, as if only just remembering Nick was there. “Do you have something for me?”
“Oh, yeah! You’re not going to believe this.” I released a held breath as Peter tucked my book back in his pocket and waved us toward a lab table. A wad of muddy grass sat in a specimen dish beside a microscope. He pushed up his glasses, his dark eyes brimming with excitement. “So, normally,” he explained, “this would be a monumental feat you’ve asked me to pull off, and the best I would be able to do would be to narrow the sample down to a particular growing region—like, maybe a few counties, or even states—but never a specific piece of property. However,” he said with a dramatic pause, “in this case, the grass you found is pretty rare.”
Nick leaned in. “How rare?”
“Like…” Pete’s eyes rolled up as if he were calculating in his head, the way Vero often did, “really rare. It’s a variation of a popular fescue, but this specific variety is new, so it hasn’t been widely used in this part of the mid-Atlantic. The sample you grabbed contained a layer of topsoil, and the combination of industrial-grade fertilizers and pesticides I found suggests it was professionally maintained. So I pulled up a list of seed distributors and used that to track down a list of companies in the mid-Atlantic that recently purchased it. There are three possible matches in Virginia. But only one of them hits all the criteria you gave me—west of the airport, east of Interstate 81.”
Peter handed Nick a piece of paper.
Nick’s brow pulled down, his posture becoming rigid as he read the report. He frowned, uncharacteristically quiet as he folded it and slipped it into the breast pocket of his coat.
“Wait,” I said, curious about the reason for Peter’s excitement. “What did it say?”
Nick turned me by the shoulders and directed me with a firm hand toward the door. “Thanks, Pete. Gotta go.”
Pete’s smile crumbled. “Wait, you’re leaving? But there’s more.”
“I’ll call you later,” Nick said over his shoulder.
“Bye, Finlay!” Pete called after me. “It was great meeting you!”
I didn’t get a chance to reply. Nick applied a steady pressure to the small of my back, ushering me to the head of the stairs.
“Where are we going?” I clutched the rail to keep from slipping on my heels.
“I’m taking you home. There’s something I need to check out.” His gait was tense and quick, his low voice rumbling like a revved engine.
“What did you find?” Whatever it was, it must have been important. “Why won’t you tell me?” I asked, chasing him down the stairs.
“Because I’ve already told you too much.”
I stopped in the middle of the lobby, arms crossed stubbornly over my chest as he barreled toward the glass doors, his car keys already in his hand. “If this is because of last night, I’m fine. You don’t have to protect me from Feliks or his goons.”
He doubled back and took me firmly by the elbow, hauling me toward the door. “You weren’t fine. I’m taking you home. I made a mistake. I don’t want you anywhere near this investigation.”
I planted my heels, pulling him up short. “If you didn’t want me involved, you wouldn’t have brought me along.” A muscle tensed in his cheek. “You found something in that report you don’t want me to know. Didn’t you?”
He raked a hand through his dark hair and swore under his breath.
“You’ve told me everything else about this case. Why not this? Why not now?”
He pressed a finger to his lips, casting anxious looks around us. “Because I thought we could help each other,” he said, struggling to keep his voice down. “You wanted proof that Theresa is unfit for custody, and I wanted to arrest her. But this isn’t just about Theresa anymore.”
“You’re right. It’s not. And after what Feliks tried to do to me last night, I think I deserve to know.”
He pinched the bridge of his nose and loosed a heavy sigh. “It’s better if you don’t.”
“You can’t shut me out! You said it yourself, I already know too—”
“Steven’s farm,” he surrendered in a low voice. “The grass on Feliks’s Lincoln came from your ex-husband’s farm.”
I fell back a step. Of all the things I’d expected to hear, this wasn’t it.
“There has to have been some mistake,” I said through a tight throat. “Theresa would never have been stupid enough to take her fling to Steven’s farm.”
“You’re assuming they were there for personal reasons. What if it was business?”
Ms. Hall and I share a purely professional relationship.
That’s what Feliks had said. But that made even less sense. “Steven just bought the farm last year. It’s not for sale.”
“If it isn’t for sale, what was Feliks doing there?”
I didn’t have an answer for that.
“Now do you understand why I didn’t want to tell you? If I can prove Feliks was conducting illicit business on Steven’s farm, and if a lawyer can prove you or your kids stand to benefit in any way from that business, then your involvement compromises the whole case.”
“My involvement already compromises your case,” I argued. “No one has to know.”
“Feliks knows, and he can use it against me in court.”
“He can’t prove I know anything about your case. I told him we were romantically involved.”
There was a challenge in the dark shine of Nick’s eyes. “Are you going to tell your ex the same thing when we roll up on his farm?”
So that’s where Nick was going. To the farm. I could either let him drop me off at home and spend the rest of the day wondering what he’d found there, or I could make him take me along.
“He won’t be there,” I said, my legs a little unsteady at the thought. “He’s got the kids.”
Nick chewed his lip as he studied me, his knuckles white on his hips. He pitched his voice low. “I can do this without you, Finlay. The less you know, the better off we both are.”
I wasn’t sure who he was trying to convince, him or me. The only thing I knew for certain was that Harris Mickler was buried on that farm, and I couldn’t let Nick find him. “I’m coming with you.” I snatched the keys from his hand before he could object. If Nick was going anywhere near that farm, I’d be damned if he was going without me.