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“It can wait.”
Trish held out her phone. “Mrs. Quinn wants to speak to you.”
An odd expression came over his face. With reluctance, he accepted, turned his back, and moved to a corner of the foyer.
No one said a word as he mumbled unintelligibly, but when he faced us once more, he was ashen.
“Where have you been?” The intensity of Marlow’s gaze had me freezing in place.
“It’s not important.” His attention shifted to me. “Drink?”
“Help yourself. You know where my study is.”
Mr. Dixon muscled through the crowd of family. Holt caught him by the arm. “You can’t do that to us, old man.”
“I didn’t mean to worry you.”
“Worry? You scared the bejesus out of all of us.” Andrew shoved his hands into his pockets as if an attempt to keep from throttling something.
“Not my intent.”
“I thought we were supposed to be talking. Not keeping things from each other,” Marlow said.
He glanced down to where Holt’s fingers were still wrapped around his arm, ignoring Marlow’s accusation. Holt dropped his hand, and he continued down the hall, all of us staring after him.
My phone buzzed again, and out of habit, I checked the text.
Tick.
A habit it seemed I needed to break.
“Who’s that?” Marlow flicked her chin at me as I stuffed it back into my pocket.
“It’s nothing.”
She stepped into my space. “I’m tired of lies.”
“This is most important.”
“The case?” Damn, she wouldn’t let it go.
“Patrick, you have anything to eat?” Saved by the brother.
“Yeah. What do you want?”
Marlow ground her jaw. I kissed the top of her head as I edged past, thankful I didn’t have to fib.
Mr. Dixon appeared in the doorway to the study. “Why are you out of bed?”
“Because my father disappeared,” she shot back. “Did you think I’d just lay around while you were missing?”
He paled. “Go rest.”
“Not until you tell me what the hell is going on.”
“Hell.” Blake flashed a grin at me.
“Proud of that, are we?” I gently pinched his cheek. He grabbed my fingers. “I won’t let you go,” I said against his forehead, squeezing him a little tighter.
