I didn’t want to take a chance of going out with the group after the meeting and I didn’t want to be alone without an alibi, in case someone else turned up dead. Since Robyn was stuck with me, we opted for a quick meal at Arby’s which turned into a debate over which sauce was best.
For the record, their horsey sauce was awesome, but didn’t hold a french fry to their signature sauce. Just saying.
We pulled into the Coeur d’Alene Arby's parking lot and made our way into the restaurant. Ordering enough food for an army, we filled our drinks and waited for our trays.
Claiming our food and a table, we sat. Robyn sipped her lemonade and opened her marinara packet. “I can’t believe Craig had to move out. I mean I get it, but wow. I feel bad that we caused that.”
I shook my head, pouring the Arby’s sauce onto the sandwich. “We didn’t cause it. He did it. We just spilled the beans. I’m sure he’d get caught sooner or later.”
Avoiding the events of the last week had become my survival method, but Robyn liked confrontation – the louder the better. “Okay, so who do you think did it?”
Shrugging, I picked up the mess I’d created and took a bite. After swallowing, I replied, “Honestly? I’m starting to wonder if I didn’t do it. You know? Who else could it be?” Even the bite of the sauce and the carby goodness of the bun didn’t help lift my depression. I ate half the burger without noticing, so focused on the turn of my life and what I could do to turn things around.
Robyn lowered her fish sandwich and squinted at me. “Did you?” She leaned over, her elbows pushing the edge of the table. “Look, you can tell me. I won’t judge you. I don’t think you’d be in the wrong, personally. I’d most likely be impressed, to be honest. I mean, come on. The guy was a jerk. He deserved it.” She didn’t move back, but studied me as closely as possible. “Seriously, Liv, you can tell me. I’ll help you the best I can.”
The dinner I’d eaten hardened into a tight knot in my stomach. I swallowed the suddenly dry bite in my mouth and gulped at my pop with an emotionally charged dehydration. If I looked anywhere but directly at her, it felt like I was avoiding or lying. If I met her gaze, I was on the spot and I wanted to cry.
Did she really think I could’ve done it? Didn’t she know me at all? I wasn’t into killing anything. I hated killing bugs, for crying out loud.
But she waited for my answer. Green-flecked white tartar sauce dripped from her sandwich to the wrapper-turned-place.
I couldn’t answer her. I didn’t want to have to defend myself to Robyn. I told her when we showed up at her house the night of the murder that I hadn’t done it. Why wasn’t that enough?
So, rather than answer her, I changed the topic. “Do you think I can go home anytime soon? I miss my cat, I miss my office.” I missed having my own house. Since Robyn had asked me if I’d done it, I wasn’t sure I wanted to stay at her place. I was a little upset she thought I could do that.
Guilt flooded me. I’d considered her as the killer for a flash second that night, too.
My best-friend leaned back enough to take a bite of her sandwich, her eyes trained on me. “Maybe. We can stop and ask Grant. He’s back his place tonight. He said something about needing to water his own plants for once.” She gracefully backed off the topic, but I sensed she was hurt that I hadn’t addressed her questions.
It wasn’t her fault that she thought I could do it. The situation with David had been awful. I didn’t have to be a jerk about it. I dipped a still-hot mozzarella and poked the bright red saucy end at her. “I didn’t kill him, Robbie. If I was going to kill someone? I’d do it with a little more original class and I’d hide the body. Whoever did it, had plagiarized the style right out of Tesha’s scene. That’s just tacky.” I grinned, lending a lighter tone to our night.
She giggled. “Can you imagine your style on a murder like that?” She leaned her head back and laughed. “There would be cat paw prints on everything and you’d most likely add silk sheets and whipped cream to the scene.”
“Hey, wait a minute. I said I’d hide the body.” I finished the stick. It really was the perfect opportunity to broach the topic again. “I’m thinking of leaving the erotica world behind. I’m really interested in writing inspirational romance.”
Robyn choked, her face turning red as she clutched at her throat. Eyes wide, she tried to cough, dragging in air that didn’t go all the way through her windpipe. She grasped at her cup, dragging her drink through her straw.
I half-stood, reaching out to do something for her. I’m not sure what, but I was ready to cut open her throat, if I needed to.
Her coughing died down and she slowly eased to her seat, breathing heavily as she stared at me in shock.
“Uh, are you okay?” I reclaimed my spot on the bench seat, picking up a fry and eyeballing it like it might try to kill me, too.
Robyn braced her hands on the table and spoke slowly. “What do you mean inspirational romance? You’re making more and more every week. Why would you leave behind that kind of success?” She picked up her sandwich and didn’t think twice about attempting to eat it again. I wouldn’t touch it, if it were me.
I sighed, putting my dinner down and folding my arms. Robyn couldn’t fully understand. I’d gone into the world of erotica with innocent eyes. Now... I’d never get that naiveté back and that made me sad. The research alone was disturbing for someone like me and my readers asked for more and different and I was having a hard time figuring out how to make certain scenes different.
“Is it okay, if I just say I’m burnt out on that genre and I want to go this route? I think I can do it. No, I know I can do it. I would have to use a different name.” Then I had an idea. As I stared at Robyn with her slack-jawed expression, I arched my eyebrows. “Why don’t you take over Roxxy’s stuff? You haven’t been sure what to focus on and you don’t have an established name yet. You can work on Roxxy’s stuff and I’ll work on Livvie’s stuff and then we’ll have multiple streams of income coming into the company. What do you think?” The more I considered the possibility, the more excited I became.
Her fear morphed into one of consideration and she pressed her lips together. “Hmmm. I actually like the way that sounds.” She turned her head to the side and eyed me. “But, you’ll help me, right? That’s a lot of pressure. I can’t do this book right now, either.”
I shook my head. “Of course! I won’t throw you in there. I’ll get this book out and then the next deadline is far enough out, we can work on the next book together. I’ll continue critiquing the work and we’ll make sure the voice is similar. While we’re doing that, I can start building the name for the inspirational work.” I gave a small squeal and scooted to the edge of my seat, excited enough to push the looming murder charge to the side. At least for the short time I sat in that booth. “Oh, say you’re going to do it. That would be so fun.”
She nodded slowly, excitement building into a large grin. “Yes. That would be so fun. I’m going to make Ryan call me Roxxy.” She winked and shoved a fry into her mouth.
“Don’t choke on me. You’re now an even bigger asset.” I pointed at her food and resumed eating mine.
“Let’s get some food for Grant. He’ll love us, if we show up with the Cheddar Melt. Those are his favorites.” She took another bite, unaware that the mention of Grant loving us brought a memory to mind of him and me hiding in his rig with a bag of Arby’s and one thing on our mind – spending time together.
I nodded in agreement. “Of course.” I could bring something to Grant, even if it wasn’t an answer from Robyn or the killer for my case.
In the car, I held the hot bag of food on my lap and we tossed ideas about books back and forth, laughing at inappropriate comments.
“I’m a little too excited.” Robyn spun the wheel sharply as we reached the turn toward Grant’s place. The tires squealed as we slid into the turn too fast.
I grabbed onto the “oh, crap bar” and squeezed my eyes shut. “For the love, does Kami drive as crazy as you or what?”
“What?” Robyn shot a questioning look my way. “I feel so bad for her. She’s going through a lot. Something is going on with her books. She didn’t want to get into it, but I think she lost everything. Maybe her computer crashed or something.” We fell silent at the horror only writers would understand. Well, maybe other people, too. I liked to pretend that writers sometimes had different woes than other people. Maybe yoga pants and carpal tunnel would be mutually exclusive to writers.
I opened my mouth to ask how she knew, as we pulled into Grant’s driveway, but I stopped as we pulled in front of his house. Light spilled from the bulb above the garage, flashing on shards of glass from his front door across the patio and down the steps.
We gasped in unison, whipping our seatbelts off and springing from the car. The house was dark.
“Is he here?” Robyn searched the yard and the house for a sign that her brother hadn’t been around for the break-in. “I hope he's okay. Come on. I don’t think... oh, wait, there’s his truck.” Worry pressed her forward, as she clutched my bicep. His truck had been parked on the side of the garage. He did that when he planned on being home for a few days.
If he was home, why were the lights off?
Dread pooled in my stomach and we thundered up the stairs. The glass crunched under our shoes in the edgy silence. Picking over the biggest chunks, we reached the gaping hole of the front door. We panted in sync, like we’d sprinted down the road. I felt like that could be the case with how fast my pulse raced.
Robyn reached the door first, hunching over to reach out for the handle. The knob turned easily and she pulled the door open. Flipping the light switch, she looked back at me when the lights didn’t come on. She flipped them a couple times, calling out, “Grant! Are you in here?”
Through the eerie silence a muffled curse reached us from above. A gun shot rang out.
I slapped my hand over my mouth, my eyes wide. Robyn growled, reaching back to push me to the stairs. “Stay here, in case they try to come this way. Stop them.” She didn’t look at me as she advanced into the dark.
What was I supposed to do? Stopping anyone that came through that way would be hard with my short frame, but I’d certainly try. If anyone tried to get away. Grant couldn’t have been shot. Not Grant. My chest hurt. Why was Robyn running off into the dark? She’d made me stay, when we had to be safer and more formidable as a pair.
Defending Grant spurred the fire inside me, that and my fear at being alone. I punched my fist into my open palm, not sure what I would do against a gun, but certain that no one was going to get out if they tried shooting at Grant. He had to have been the one doing the shooting. That man always had a gun at his hip.
I stepped inside to see if I could see Robyn. Her silhouette reached the top of the stairs with the light from the garage motion light shining through the window. A shadow rammed into her, knocking her to the side with an oomph, then kicking her down the stairs. Robyn yelled and was suddenly quiet when she reached the bottom of Grant’s flight of stairs. Was she okay?
There wasn’t time to check. The shadow took the stairs two at a time, bounding over Robyn at the bottom.
I fell into a crouch like I was in basketball again, hands up in case someone passed me the ball. The shadow reached me and I walked backwards out the door, scuttling like a crab. My attempts to seem threatening didn’t stop the person, instead they reached out and shoved me.
Reaching out, I grabbed their sleeve, tugging the person along with me as I fell off-balance. In less than a second, we tripped, falling to the cement patio. My elbow and tailbone hit at the same time and red bursts of pain split across my vision. Muffled grunts from my attacker and groans from me mingled. Our hard fall didn’t slow the person down as they untangled themselves from me, stood up, and sprinted off into the night.
Catching my breath, I scrambled as fast as I could to my feet, looking around in case they lingered in the area. Gasping for air, I bent over, my hands unsteady on my knees. Robyn. Grant. Were they okay? I didn’t waste any more time. Spinning, I turned to run inside.
I wasn’t sure there wasn’t another assailant inside, but I couldn’t wait to check. I needed to find out why Robyn had fallen silent.
Running to the base of stairs, I felt around for her. “Robyn? Robyn!”
The soft sounds of her breathing and moaning directed me where to go. “Are you okay? Where’s Grant?” I fell to my knees beside her, touching any parts of her I could reach. I didn’t feel any blood.
“I’m here.” His large shape moved slowly down the steps. “Is she okay?” He reached us and helped Robyn to sit up.
“I’m fine, just dazed. I took those steps too fast.” She shook her head, the soft strands of her hair tickling my hand as I found her shoulder to help steady her. “Did either of you see who it was?”
Grant’s hand found my fingers I didn’t have on Robyn. He squeezed them and I felt his relief that we were both okay in his grasp. I blinked back tears, shaking my head. “I didn’t. Should we go outside? Grant, your lights don’t work. Are you shot?” My words flowed from my mouth like a flood.
His voice was gruff as we all stood and he released my hand. “Yeah, the main electricity was cut outside the house. I have the garage hooked in on a different line. I didn’t see them either. I’m fine. My wall isn’t.”
We moved outside and I pulled my phone out. “I’ll call 911.” I punched in the numbers and blinked as Grant held a hand over mine to stop me.
“Don’t. I’m not sure if it had to do with your case or my undercover case.” He ran his hand down his face.
I searched him for injury, taking in any evidence of Robyn’s as well. They both seemed fine, just shaken. My elbow suddenly throbbed enough to get my attention. My lower back was going to make itself known the next day.
“Let’s just take a minute.” Robyn pulled out her phone. She lifted her hand to Grant and raised her eyebrows. “I’m not calling 911, but I am going to call Ryan. I just need to hear his voice.”
I understood. There was nothing I wanted more in that moment than to curl into Grant’s arms and cry in relief.
I wasn’t stupid. The attacker had been there for me. For my case. And Grant was trying to protect me.
Did I deserve that, if I was putting them all in danger?