“Oh, I see.”
“Don’t use that tone,” I snap, a bit ruder than I meant to.
“What tone is that?”
“The tone where you think more is going on than there is. She’s in danger; I’m keeping her safe.”
“I hear you, honey. Are you safe, too?”
“I’m fine.”
“And this case?”
“Not sure. But I’m not dropping it.”
“I wouldn’t expect you to. Will you be at the precinct later?”
“I’m on vacation.”
My mom laughs. “You, vacation?”
“It was that or I had to stop looking into this for her.”
“Oh, you’re serious.”
“Two weeks.”
“Well, what can I do to help?”
I rest my elbows on the porch railing and lean down. “I’ve got this, Ma.”
“Then I’m bringing food over later.”
“Ma—”
“Non-negotiable. You need to eat in order to keep a clear head, so I will feed you. Understand?”
I chuckle because I know there’s no point in telling her no. She’ll just show up anyway. “Fine. Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.” She hesitates a moment. “Are you okay, honey?”
“Just stressed. But I’ll be fine. Thanks for calling, Ma.”
“Thanks for answering. Love you, Kid.”
“Love you, too.”
I end the call, then straighten and turn back toward the house. Beckett is inside on the couch, her Bible in her hand. She’s reading quietly while sipping a mug of steaming coffee. With her attention focused somewhere else, I study her through the sliding glass door.
She looks right sitting here in my space.
Like she fits.
Before I let my mind focus too strongly on that dangerous thought, I shove my phone into my pocket and step inside to deliver the news.
That we’re on our own.
9.Beckett
