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Zeke’s cop instincts told him it was the former, not the latter. The realization helped ease some of the tension that had been coiled inside him ever since this morning’s fiasco.
“I’m good,” Zeke said.
“Me, too,” Mimi replied.
“Sam? Did someone knock on the door?” A woman in her mid to late fifties, maybe, walked into the room. She was on the short side, with light brown hair that reached just to the edge of her chin. No pearls, but she looked…nice.
She took one look at Zeke and Mimi and stilled. “Oh!” Her gaze flew to Sam. “I didn’t know…that is.” She shook her head. “I’m Janet, Sam’s wife.” She reached out her hand. Mimi immediately shook it, leaving Zeke no option but to follow her example. It was clear from her expression that no reciprocal introduction was necessary.
“How did you find me?” Sam asked. Then he blinked and looked embarrassed. “You’re a police officer. Of course you’d be able to find me.”
“We need some information about last night.”
Janet took a seat across from the couch. Sam took off that ridiculous apron, then sat next to her. His chair was close enough to hers that she could reach out to hold his hand. Was this the woman who replaced his mother? How long had they been married? He shouldn’t give a crap about any of it. But…
“What do you need to know?” Sam asked.
Zeke filled them in on the missing money.
“And you think I might be responsible?” He said it matter-of-factly, without any rancor.
“No, of course not,” Mimi jumped in to say. “But we interviewed everyone we could find last night and we’ve come up with nothing. Any little detail you could remember might help.”
Sam rubbed his chin. “I’m afraid I wasn’t paying much attention to anyone, except…you,” he said to Zeke.
The thought of Sam Grant covertly watching him as he’d walked around the festival grounds was...what? Disconcerting? Creepy? Oddly confusing?
“Have you watched me before?” Zeke asked.
Sam glanced away. “Yes.”
“How many times?”
“Maybe a dozen or so times over the years,” he admitted.
Over the years?
Mimi crossed her legs. Her right foot began to jiggle the way it did whenever she got nervous. It distracted Zeke enough that he didn’t hear the front door open until it was too late.
“Hey! I’m home. Who does that minivan belong to?” A tall kid with dark hair and light-colored eyes asked. He wore basketball shorts and the laces on his sneakers were untied. He was sweaty, like he’d just finished a workout.
Zeke tried not to gawk. This kid was his…brother. Or, half-brother. He looked eerily like Claire. More so than Cameron did. Driving over, the possibility that he’d run into the kid had never occurred to Zeke. Mostly because he thought they’d find Sam drunk in some bar or passed out in an alley. The cozy little family in front of him wasn’t what he’d pictured.
“Jeremy,” Janet said calmly, “We have guests.”
The kid immediately honed in on Zeke’s uniform. “Hey, I didn’t do nothing,” he said, laughing nervously. No one responded. Then his gaze slowly took Zeke in and his features hardened. “What are you doing here?” he demanded.
“Jeremy!” his mother admonished. “Don’t be rude!”
“What?” Jeremy said, his focus still on Zeke. “Am I in some kind of trouble? Is that why you’re here?”
“That depends,” Zeke said, “Have you done anything to be in trouble for?” If it wasn’t for those blue eyes, Zeke could have been looking into a mirror from his past.
Jeremy raised his chin defiantly. “Like I said, I haven’t done anything wrong. And neither has my mom or dad.”
Zeke tried to not laugh. Karma was a bitch, all right. Hell. Jeremy didn’t just look like him, he sounded like him, too.
“It’s okay,” Zeke said to Janet, who was giving Jeremy the universal look of parental mortification. He turned to Jeremy. “Don’t let yourself be intimidated by a cop, kid. If you haven’t done anything wrong, then look ‘em in the eye and be firm. Just don’t cuss at us or take off running. We cops kind of hate to get sweaty that way, you know?”
