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47
Holding a large black trash bag,Liv once again stood on the threshold of her son’s bedroom. Now that she had the house to herself and an okay from the police, she wanted to see what, if anything, was still salvageable, then pitch the rest.
The heaviness in her heart kept her immobile. A tear crowded into the corner of one eye before it flung itself over the edge.
She was no closer to knowing how she would explain this travesty to Brodie. He’d lost so much already. First his dad, then his favorite sport, and now the safety of his room.
Given the nature of her job, she had stood in the center of many crime scenes before. None had made her feel like an army of ants were stampeding beneath her skin.
The front doorknob rattled.
Dropping the bag, she drew her firearm before easing down the hallway to the family room. She peered around the corner, but her entryway contained no sidelights for her to identify who might be on the other side.
A Reacher-sized fist slammed against the fiberglass door, making her jump. “Liv!”
The pent-up breath she’d been holding hissed between her teeth, and she splayed her free hand wide to release the tension.
Another savage pound. “Liv, open up!” Zeke’s silhouette appeared before the large picture window facing the street. He cupped his hands around his face and peered inside.
Even though he shouldn’t be able to see her through the sheer curtain, his eyes seemed to latch onto hers as he stabbed a finger toward the door.
A contrary mixture of joy at seeing him and irritation at his high-handedness held her in place.
His eyes narrowed and his jaw firmed, yet he still said the magic word in a low rumble. “Please.”
Any other time, she would have smiled at his disgruntled tone. Not today. Smiling would tax the short supply of energy she still had in the tank.
She stalked forward, flipped the dead bolt, and shielded her handgun behind her thigh before swinging the door wide. “What are you doing here?”
He thundered past her. “That’s my line.”
Frowning, she closed the door. “Didn’t you find my note?”
He rattled a wrinkled piece of paper in the air between them. “This doesn’t qualify as a note.” He recited from memory. “Something’s come up at home. Good luck this morning.”
Eyes wide, she checked her watch. With her mind still half-buried in the destruction down the hall, she’d forgotten about his appointment with the authenticator.
“Why aren’t you at Kayla’s?”
He stilled, noticing the weapon she tried to hide. Then he took in her ripped, decades-old jeans, faded T-shirt, and sloppy bun at the back of her head.
Slowly, he scanned his surroundings, his head cocked slightly to the side like a wolf trying to pinpoint the exact location of a juicy rabbit moving through tall grasses.
“Where’s Brodie?”
“I dropped him off at my parents’ house.”
“I didn’t take your parents for the babysitting kind.”
“Callie is on her way there.”
“What’s going on, Liv? Something doesn’t feel right.”
“Don’t worry about it. You need to get to Kayla’s.” Reholstering her gun, she retrieved her phone from her back pocket and tapped through until she brought up her contacts.
“What are you doing?”
“Calling Kayla. I’ll ask her to push back the meeting long enough for you to get there.”
