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“And you are?” asks the chatty cop, his expression bored, or maybe annoyed.
“Your worst nightmare,” the woman replies.
“I’m Damien, and this is Nicole,” the man says. “Pleased to meet you.”
“Oh, shit, I’ve heard about you,” Loomis says, hitching his belt up and straightening his posture. “They don’t much like you down at the station.”
“See,” she says, preening, “I told you.”
“Can we please get back to figuring out who mauled my van?” I ask, although I’m happy they’re here. They must be the husband-and-wife private investigators my brother called in. According to him, they get results—and I need to know who did this. If it was my mother, or if there’s someone else who’s decided they hate me.
“Get back to it?” Nicole asks smugly. “We’re just getting started.”
Chapter Thirty-Four
Ruthie
The police officers took prints from the van, snapped a few more photos, and then asked Tank some questions inside the shop with Shane. They’re gone now, and the rest of us are sitting around on the folding chairs in the garage.
“So,” Nicole says, “now that they’ve left, tell us the real scoop. Other than your mother, who could have done this? Anyone acting weird?”
Shane stirs in the chair beside me but leaves his hand on my thigh, where it’s been since we first sat down.
“Her neighbor,” he says. “Mrs. Longhorn. She’s taken an interest in Ruthie’s goings-on.” He lifts his other hand to his chin, rubs. “I don’t think she’d be physically capable of it, though. And she’s shown some fondness for Ruthie.”
“Are you serious?” I ask in disbelief.
He nods. “Actually, she might have noticed something useful. She’s always poking her head out the door, watching what’s going on.”
That, I have no objection to.
“What about your daughter’s father?” Damien asks. He studies me—probably looking for a reaction. “Could he be mixed up in this?”
“Yeah,” Nicole says, picking up the thread. “You think he’d have a problem with you boning your brother’s friend?”
Danny coughs, or maybe chokes.
“Is that necessary?” Tank says tightly, scowling at her. I feel a pulse of contrition, because I know this mustn’t be easy for him. When I explained that I didn’t feel that way about him, he claimed he was going to move on, but he probably didn’t think I’d move on. I’ve gone years without being serious about anyone and now…
Now I’m falling in love with the man I married for convenience. No one’s more surprised than I am.
“Surely is, Muscles,” Nicole says. “If the ex has a problem with their situationship, he could have chosen to take it out on the van.”
“I mean—” But Tank cuts himself off, his brow furrowing. His gaze shifts to me. “What about your secret admirer?”
“What’s this now?” Nicole asks.
“She has a secret admirer, someone who’s been buying her items from her online wishlist. It’s gone on for years. I mean…maybe it’s not just one person, but it’s so regular…”
Nicole snaps her fingers and then points at me. “Maybe you have a stalker on your hands. This might be more than a five-minute case after all.”
She sounds almost happy about it, but it feels like my heart has dropped out of my chest. For years, my secret helper has been making me feel less alone. Could it have been some weird psychopath playing a long game?
Shane clears his throat, and the room’s collective attention shifts to him. “That’s not going to lead anywhere.”
“Don’t you think that’s for me and my ridiculously handsome husband to decide?” Nicole asks with arched eyebrows.
Shane meets my gaze, his hand still on my thigh, and I can see it in his eyes before he says a word. They’re warm and deep, and knowing. A sense of wonder fills me. “It was you. All this time, it was you.”
