Page 63 of Falling for Her

“Oh yeah. I remember. They were here for work. They had dinner at Thatcher’s, and when they went back to the hotel, both of them passed out. Called us at four in the morning, dizzy and confused. We treated them at the scene and then brought them in for dehydration.”

“Hmm.” I make a note of this. “What about you guys?” I look at Hudson, and he shakes his head.

“No, pretty much the same calls as always. Collins and Roman handle those kinds of calls more than we do.”

“Okay, well, if you guys will keep a lookout for anything that’s suspicious or feels a little off, it could help me out. Call me directly, or you can call Cathy. And keep this confidential. It’s on a need-to-know basis.”

“Got it,” Roman confirms. “I’m going to head in and get something to eat.”

“I should do that too. I’ll be on the lookout,” Collins assures me, “and I’ll try to go through the old cases to see if anything sticks out.”

“That would be good.”

“This is a bigger deal than you are letting on,” Hudson says as they head inside. I don’t confirm or deny it. He inhales deeply. “I’ll ask Scooter if he heard anything.”

“That would be appreciated.” I shake his hand.

I’m pulling out of the parking lot when my phone rings. I press the green button as it connects to the car. “Hello?”

“Hey, Burke, it’s Harmony.”

“Hey, Harmony, what’s up?”

“I’m calling to invite you and Asa to a barbecue at our place on Saturday afternoon. It’s been a while since we’ve done one, and the weather is going to be almost tolerable.” She laughs.

“Sounds good,” I reply, thinking I could chat with her husband, Brady, who owns Thatcher’s. “Do you need me to bring anything?”

“No, we’ll have everything taken care of.”

“Okay, sounds good. See you there.”

I hit the hospital next and speak to a doctor I went to high school with to see if he’s noticed anything that doesn’t jive. He hasn’t, but he tells me he’ll ask around and let me know.

I return the car and write my report, then text Finley to let her know I’m on my way home.

It’s after 6:00 p.m., and the smell of burnt food hits me the moment I open the front door.

“Hello?” I find Finley at the kitchen counter. Her hair, which she had loose this morning, is now piled on top of her head. The sweater is long gone, leaving her in a tank top that hugs her chest and shows off the smoothness of her stomach. Her face looks like she’s about to cry or throw something at me. “Everything okay?”

“Probably not.” She puts her hands on the counter.

“Where’s Asa?” I look around.

“I sent him to the tree house. I didn’t want him to be here when, well, when I tell you what I need to tell you, and you fire me.” My eyebrows go up. “This is me saving face. At least in Asa’s eyes.”

“Is this about last night?” I ask her nervously. I never for one second thought she would quit because of it.

“No,” she scoffs. “You give yourself a bit too much credit. It was a kiss. It was nothing to write home about.” I tilt my head to the side. I can tell she’s lying. “No, this is bigger than that.”

“You want to sit down?” Her chest is rising and falling as if she’s two seconds away from having a panic attack.

“No. I’m going to have a clear exit path when I tell you what happened.”

“Okay. Is it because you burned dinner?”

“That would be one part of it, but the big part,” she moves to the side toward one of the chairs, “is more about this.” She lifts something from the chair and holds it up. It takes me a moment to register that it’s a pair of my pants with orange splotches. “I don’t know how to do laundry,” she confesses. “I’ve never done laundry in my life.”

“What?” I’m not sure I heard her. “You’ve never done laundry?”