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"I'll get those muffins ready for you to take. Kayla really wants you to have them."
KAYLA SHOWED UP shortly after that. Her grandma didn't say anything, but showed by her mood and her actions that we were good, and Kayla relaxed. We talked about her homework and ate a couple of the muffins, and for the first time that day, I forgot about Michael.
It was nice that Paula thought I made a good role model for Kayla, but I couldn't help wishing I could do more. Kayla was a bright kid. She deserved to go to college. I thought about my trust fund. Was there away to help her without insulting Paula? I'd have to think about that, ask Paige for some ideas.
I had the money. I didn't need all of it. Maybe this was something I could do with the extra. Something good.
twenty-six
I was walking away from the house when my phone started playing "Light My Fire." I grabbed it so fast I nearly sent it flipping onto the sidewalk. Then I took a deep breath and answered.
"Hey," I said.
"Hey yourself," Adam said. "It's 12:01 and I missed my morning update."
I clutched the phone tighter and didn't answer.
"Savannah?"
"Can--Can I call you back?"
"What's wrong?"
I considered going to the motel and phoning him back. That's where I wanted to be when I told him, curled up in a chair, imagining him there, listening. But I couldn't wait that long. I'd been holding back the dam all morning. So I stopped walking and said, "There's been a murder."
"Shit. Another girl?"
"No ... Michael."
Silence.
"Michael Kennedy," I said. "Claire Kennedy's brother. The Dallas detective--"
"I know who you mean. He's dead?"
I told him what happened.
"So--Wait--You--" He stopped and took a deep breath. "Okay, let me see if I understand. Michael Kennedy called you last night and asked for your help. You went out, found his body, and were accused of his murder. And I'm just finding this out now?"
"I wanted to handle it myself."
"A guy you were working with died. You found his body. I don't care if you can handle it yourself. You shouldn't--Damn it. Hold on." A rustle as the phone moved. When a fire half-demon gets mad, things get a little warm, including whatever he happens to be holding at the time. Adam goes through a cell phone a year, usually shorting them out when I'm on the other end.
I resumed walking and forced a light tone. "I keep telling you, you need travel-sized oven mitts."
"Yeah, yeah," he muttered. Another rustle as he wrapped something around the phone.
"That's what I'll get you for your birthday," I said. "Not a new top for your Jeep--"
"Don't change the subject," Adam said. "I'm serious, Savannah. You should have called." He took a deep breath and exhaled. "So how are you making out? No, stupid question. You're not okay, but you sure as hell aren't going to admit it. Where are you? No, that's another stupid question, isn't it? You're working. Haven't slept. Haven't eaten--"
"I ate."
"Nothing good, I'm sure. Stop walking, okay?"
I didn't ask how he knew I was on the move.
"Turn toward your motel," he said. "Then start walking again."
