Warmth once again rushed to my cheeks. Maybe I needed to see a doctor about this blushing problem I seemed to be having.
“Erica.” Surprise and some other emotion crossed Grady’s face … some sort of emotion that I did not like the look of at all. Worry maybe? Guilt? Actually he kind of looked like he might be sick. Sure, our phone call last night had been bad … but it wasn’t that bad.
“I came to see you,” I said, “with Matthew here. I brought you coffee.” I looked down at my hand, realized it wasn’t there, then quickly looked over to Matthew.
“I’m sorry,” Matthew piped in. “I drank it. I was coughing and—”
“It’s fine,” Grady said. His eyes moved to Matthew. “Someone thought they saw you out here. Your mother’s looking for you. She’s upset.” He paused a beat. “There’s been a development.”
“What kind of development?”
“I’ll fill you in later,” Grady said. “But right now you should go see your mother.”
Matthew nodded and moved to leave. Unfortunately, because there was so little room to walk in the boathouse, he had to brush pretty close against me to get by. Our mumbled apologies, and my staring up at the ceiling, really didn’t seem to help the situation.
Grady turned his gaze back to me, and suddenly I found my one free hand shoved deep into my pocket. I held up my coffee in the another hand. “There’s a little left if you want it.”
“Don’t worry about the coffee,” he said, a strange look still on his face.
“Okay,” I said slowly. “You’re starting to freak me out. What is going on?”
“I have to tell you something, and you’re not going to like it.”
My mind raced, but I didn’t say anything.
“The ME’s preliminary report came in.”
“Okay.”
“It’s looking like Mr. Masterson’s death wasn’t an accident.”
“Whoa,” I said putting up my hands. “You don’t mean … and why do you keep saying accident? You said it on the phone the other night. Not heart attack. Not natural causes. That makes me think you guys were thinking maybe an overdose … of medication?”
He didn’t say anything.
“But now … did someone drug him?”
Grady stared at me, the muscles by his temples flexed as his jaw clenched. “You just can’t stop, can you?” He then rubbed his forehead with one hand and held up the other. “Never mind … sorry.”
My stomach dropped. “What are you trying to tell me here?” I asked, planting my hands on my hips. “Because I’m starting to think I might have an idea … but it had better not be what I’m thinking.”
“Please, Erica. Don’t make this about us,” Grady said meeting my eyes. “I don’t want to do this.”
“Grady,” I said, my voice full of warning. “Don’t tell me—”
“We’re bringing Tweety in.”