Digging into her back pocket, she produced the house key. She really needed to rummage around in her things for a handbag. At some point she would go for a new driver’s license. Or maybe not. Really there was no point, she supposed, until she knew how this new investigation was going to turn out. If she was forced to return to prison, she certainly wouldn’t need a license to drive.
The mere thought of going back twisted inside her like barbed wire.
The key slid into the lock, and Rory gave it a turn. Inside was a little stuffy. They’d closed and locked the windows, revealing that Lulu’s air-conditioning was struggling to do its job. By next month, the house would be an oven. She should call a repairman and see what the damage would be. Not that she had any money to speak of. But Lulu had left a small sum in her bank account.Rory had been added to the account years ago so technically she could use it. It seemed reasonable to use Lulu’s money on her beloved little cottage—she’d called it a cottage. And it was, sort of, at least in size. As for style, Lulu had given it plenty.
Chance came in right behind her, carrying the bags from her favorite Chinese restaurant. The place had been in the same location just off the square for as long as she could remember. The husband-and-wife team who owned and operated the quaint little place had remembered her. She and Lulu had been regulars. The couple’s kind response to seeing her gave Rory a glimmer of hope. Maybe there actually were a few people who didn’t want her to go directly back to jail.
Rory supposed the couple could be added to the column of happy-to-see-her. That made about three if she included Austin.
Chance left the bags on the kitchen table. “I’ll get my laptop, and we can go over interviews and the autopsy report if you’re up to it.”
She nodded, slowly. “Sure.” The idea of the autopsy report made her hesitate. Made her feel uneasy. But it was just another part of this painful journey.
It was important to use every opportunity to discuss the case. How else would they find anything? For all she knew, Detective Fowler could show up at her door any time to say that he was arresting her again. But Jamie Colby had assured Rory that would not happen until the investigation was fully prepared to proceed. The DA’s office would not want to go back to trial without all their ducks in a row, so to speak.
While Chance readied his laptop, she removed the containers of entrées from the bags. She grabbed a couple of plates and then bottles of water from the fridge. Since Chance was still working with his laptop, she went ahead and divvied up portions of noodles, egg rolls, sweet and sour chicken and Szechwan pork. It smelled amazing.
“Thank you.” He turned to the plate she’d placed in front of him.
She held up chopsticks and a plastic fork. “Do you have a preference?”
“Either one works for me.”
She passed him the chopsticks and reached back into the bag for her own. As quickly as she could navigate those chopsticks, Rory stuffed a wad of noodles into her mouth and closed her eyes, savoring the flavors.
When she opened her eyes, he was grinning at her. “That must be really good.”
She put her hand in front of her mouth to prevent him watching her chew while she said, “So, so good.”
He lifted his chopsticks to his lips and slurped noodles into his mouth. “Mmm. You’re right.”
Reminding herself not to stare, she poked in another bite. The spicy goodness made her cheeks flush. It was just the heat of the food. Not Chance. Not at all.
He’d said they would talk about the case while they ate, but either they were too hungry to slow down, or the food was just too good to detract from it with conversation. Didn’t take long, though, for Rory to feel stuffed. Prison meals were not so good, and portions weren’t exactly generous.
She leaned back in her chair and sighed. “That was awesome.”
Chance finished off a bite and did the same. “No wonder that’s your favorite restaurant.”
“Pete and I picked up take-out from there at least once a week, sometimes twice. I tried but could never prepare any of the dishes on the menu even close to the way they do.”
“You like to cook?” he asked.
“Sometimes.” She shrugged. “Lulu and I liked trying to replicate our favorite restaurant dishes.” The thought made her smile. “It was an adventure every time.”
“I can see how that would be a challenge.” Chance stood, disposed of his remains and put the plate in the sink.
Rory recognized that was her cue to get down to business. She took her plate to the sink. No need for a stop at the trash bin—she’d practically licked the plate clean.
When she resumed her seat once more at the table, Chance was already reviewing something on his laptop.
“The owner of the White Cottage was interviewed, as were your closest neighbors, coworkers, friends and family.” His gaze settled on hers. “A lot of people were questioned.”
She remembered well those endless discussions of what was said and who said it. “None could point to anything that suggested Pete and I had problems of any kind. No one had ever witnessed an argument between us. Neither he nor I ever complained to friends or coworkers about the other or our relationship.”
Chance studied her a moment. “The two of you never fought. Never disagreed. Even in private.”
“We disagreed occasionally, yes.” She gave a single, firm nod. “But we never argued or fought. We talked it out, and if either of us grew too emotional, we set the subject aside. When we felt ready, we revisited it.”
