A smile tugged at her lips. "Seriously, though. Could we stop at CVS and get some calamine?"
Twelve
"You damn well don't have to drive me." Scorn oozed from Riley's voice.
It was much too early to be exposed to such venom. I yawned. Sleep had been hard to come by. Too many bits and pieces floating around in my head, causing a bad case of insomnia.
"I can damn well get there on my own."
Biting my tongue to keep from chastising him about his language, I stared out the window, my face a mask of serenity. I was going to make sure he got to school today. I was going to watch him walk into the building. No more skipping.
"I think I do need to drive you, Ry."
I caught his startled blink. I hadn't told him I knew he skipped school. I figured he had enough on his plate to worry about. But now I wanted him to know. I didn't want him to think he was getting away with anything.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Belligerence replaced startled.
I shrugged. "What do you think it means?"
Crossing his arms over his chest, he glared at me. "I can't believe Dad's doing this to me," he muttered.
I glowered at Riley. I was a good glowerer, but he was ob viously immune to my powers. "Don't forget about supper tonight. Five o'clock. Your dad and I need to talk to you."
"Well, I need to talk to you too."
"You do?"
He shouldered his backpack as I parked in front of the high school. "I do have opinions."
Grrr. "I look forward to hearing them."
He glared.
"Have a good day," I sang as Riley hopped out of the car. "Stay out of trouble!"
Turning, he flashed me a grin. I knew that grin. It was the same one I used to give my parents before I deliberately disobeyed them.
What was he up to now?
I swung my Corolla in the direction of the office. Everyone was due to gather there at eight to go over the timeline of tomorrow's job, start to finish. Okay, that was the excuse we used. Truly, we never got much work done. That hourlong meeting before a big job had turned into the office's weekly happy hour. With donuts and coffee, of course.
Speaking of which, I pulled into the Kroger lot and ran in for two dozen Krispy Kremes.
Ana called this morning and apparently she was none the worse for wear. No sign of poison ivy, though she was sure little bumps were going to pop out any minute now. Not taking any chances, she was keeping a bottle of calamine on hand at all times.
As I drove down Knickerbocker, I wondered why Dave Mein, my fire-fighter friend, hadn't called. Chickened out? I just couldn't see it. He was one of those guys whose word was gold. He definitely knew something he wasn't keen on sharing, and my imagination was running wild.
Up ahead, red lights blinked at a railroad crossing. I rolled to a stop as a freight train rumbled past.
Knickerbocker wound its way through the industrial sec tion of Freedom. Office rent was cheap in this area, with lots of vacancies, but the location did nothing for me. I had been willing to pay a bit more for a location my clients would adore.
I turned left onto Mockingbird, then right onto Jaybird Lane, zoned residential and business. I passed Mighty Tots Daycare and turned into the Taken by Surprise lot.
The office itself was a renovated ranch-style home. I'd paved the front yard, and turned the backyard into a showcase of my designs. I couldn't help but smile, despite the whole hoe issue and the mess I'd made out of things with Coby.
Kit Pipe was leaning against his Hummer, smoking a cigar, when I pulled into my usual parking space.
He took one box of donuts from me and plucked out a glazed. "You look like crap."
"I love the way you kiss up to the boss." I set my backpack on the ground. "I haven't been sleeping all that great lately."
A smile pulled at his lips. "Heard you were playing in the bushes last night."
"Coby has a big mouth."
"He thinks you and Ana have something kinky going on."
I had to smile. "Ana sat in poison ivy."
He laughed, his stocky frame doubling over. "Must have been a sight."
"Oh, it was."
"Coby clean?"
I sighed. "Appears so. He was just doing some yard work for his nana." The sun beamed off his bald head. The skull tattoo looked especially scary this morning. "Gut instinct, who do you think: Jean-Claude or Marty?"
He took a bite of donut, then a puff of cigar. I winced at the combination. "Not sure. Both are hard workers."
"You hear that the tools are showing up again?"
"No shit?" His ink-lined eyes narrowed.
If I didn't know him so well, I'd be shaking in my Keds.
"Maybe if I just wait long enough, all the equipment will show up again and I won't have to worry about it."
"And let it happen again some day?"
Damn, I hated when he was right.
"I just don't understand it. It's not like there's a black market for garden tools."
"What're you gonna do? Follow Marty and Jean-Claude too?"
I didn't like his tone. "You have a better idea?"
His furry eyebrows dipped. "Lie detector?"
"Yeah, I've got one of those in my office."
"Smart-ass."
"I'm gonna be taking the rest of the day off," I said.
He pinched the end of his cigar. "Why?"
I pulled my backpack onto my shoulder. "I need to see a cop about some Skinz, and a man about a house."
"You have yourself a good time." He smiled. He had the best smile.
"Hey, you still dating Daisy?"
His tone turned suspicious. "Why?"
"Ana's looking for a boyfriend."
His hands shot up. "Oh no."
"Why not? She was only your probation officer for a month, a long time ago."
He was saved from answering by the squeal of tires. A small red hatchback swerved into the lot, jolting to a stop in the spot next to mine.
Deanna Parks bounded out of the driver's seat, her blonde ponytail flying out behind her. "Look who I found hitchhiking."
Jean-Claude tumbled out when she opened his door, looking green around the gills. He fell to his knees and kissed the ground.
Deanna didn't seem to notice. "Sorry I'm late. Lucah didn't want to get dressed. I couldn't pass him off to the sitter fast enough." She popped the back of her hatchback and rummaged inside, mumbling all the while about her twoyear-old and potty training. Seemed Lucah liked being naked. Typical man.
Deanna was one of the best landscape designers I'd ever met. The fact that she was a twenty-one-year-old single mother with zero college experience didn't bother me in the least.
I helped Jean-Claude to his feet. "You okay?"
"Never again."
Kit frowned. "Been there, man. What happened to your ride?"
"Ran out of gas about a mile down." Despite his French name, there wasn't even the hint of an accent. Light stubble covered his cheeks, his chin. His hair was rumpled, his eyelids heavy. He was a dead ringer for Hugh Grant—his mug shot, that is.
Deanna's voice rang out. "Some days I'm just so happy to see the sitter. I wish I could pay her more money. She deserves it, for putting up with Lucah all day."
She didn't even notice that no one was listening to her. To Jean-Claude, I said, "I'll take you to the gas station and drop you at your car after the meeting."
He nodded.
"Oh, Nina?" Deanna said.
"Huh?" Being around Deanna taxed my energy.
"Strangest thing." She tugged a shovel and a small hand cultivator out of her hatchback. "Found these in my car this morning. No idea how they got there. I mean, I didn't put them in there." She frowned. "At least I don't think I put them in there."
I hadn't even known the cultivator was missing.
"Oh, and this," she said, tugging out roll of chicken wire.
I shot a look at Kit, who shrugged.
"And this," she said. She pulled on box of decorative
edging, left over from jobs gone by. "And this pickax too." She smiled brightly as she spotted the Krispy Kremes. "Oooh. Donuts!"
The Freedom police station held that stale smell of old coffee in its stagnant air. I didn't know how Kevin stood it, day in and day out.
"Hi, Russell. How're you?" I asked the aging desk sergeant.
"Just fine. Fine. You look great, Nina."
"Thanks." I looked like something the cat had spit up, but I didn't want to shatter his mirage by denying his words.
"Kevin's not around. He's not on today."
Thank heaven for small favors. "Actually I came to see Candy. She should be expecting me."
"Sure, sure. Go on back."
I followed a bench-lined hallway that opened into a large room, about fifty by fifty. Offices lined one wall. The rest of the room was filled with desks pushed together in small squares like children's desks in grade school.
A quick head count gave me five people in the room, most of them pecking away at computers or reading through files. I spotted Candy in a far corner on the phone. She looked up and waved me over.
Wearing a bright red pantsuit, she stood out—which I thought was her intention. She held up a finger while she finished her conversation. Finally, she hung up the phone.
"Well, Nina Quinn! I haven't seen you since . . ."
"A month ago at Kroger." What was it about people not remembering me?
She frowned. "Oh yeah, that's right," she said, laughing. "In front of the ice-cream case. Sit down, will ya?"
I sat.
"I'm not going to say you look good. You look like hell."
I knew Russell had been lying. "I'm okay."
"Like hell."
I sighed. It would be out soon, anyway. "By the way, I'd appreciate it if you didn't tell Kevin I stopped by."
Her eyes, lined with a dark blue, blinked. "That sounds like some serious trouble. What the hell happened?" she asked, scooting her chair next to mine.
I shrugged. Part of me wanted to tell her the whole sordid story, and the other part, the part that respected Kevin as an officer, knew that his reputation would be sullied if it got around that he was sleeping with his partner. "Let's not talk about it."
"Hell."
"I agree."
"If there's anything I can do," she said.
I waved her offer away. "I'm fine."
Candy Carradon was short, stocky. Imposing. Her black hair was swept off her face, giving her a stern look.
"What's up?" she asked.
I leaned forward. "I was wondering if you have any information on a group called the Skinz?" Candy had been working juvie for three years. I figured if anyone knew about these punks, she would.
She leaned back in her chair. "Nasty little buggers."
"You know them?"
"Of course I do. They've been tied to a dozen robberies, but we can never get enough evidence on them. They're smart. Too smart."
"Dangerous?"
"The potential is there. A few of the robberies have targeted gun shops. By our count, this group has thirty or forty guns stashed away."
My head swam. "Any ties to militia groups?" I was thinking about that Gun Pride magazine I'd found under Riley's mattress.
Candy shook her head. "Not that I've ever come across. But again, there's potential. They're not exactly white supremacists, but they haven't exactly been friendly to people of different races. By races I mean the whole gamut: Irish, Italian, Norwegian, Polish . . . the list goes on and on."
"Great."
"Why? Do you know something?"
"No. Riley's been hanging around this group lately."
"No kidding?"
I shook my head, my ponytail slapping me in my face.
"Nina," Candy said, leaning in. "You call me if you need me or have any more questions. Because if Riley's involved with these kids, he's in some serious trouble. You need to get him away from them."
Great. Just how was I going to do that?
Thirteen
I pounded on the front door of Ginger's town house. I took some pleasure in her bland landscaping. Usually a yard reflected its owner. There wasn't even a withering pot of marigolds to be seen. Just boring, cracked, chipped cement stairs.
The door finally swung open. Kevin cursed.
"Good to see you too."
"What are you doing here?" He shaded his eyes against the sun.
I swallowed hard. He was clad in a pair of old denim shorts, left unbuttoned and barely zipped. His chest was lightly tanned, broad and flat, his stomach, muscled and taut. I tore my gaze away from the little trail of hair that ran down from his belly button.
"I need to talk to you."
"You ever heard of a phone?"
I went to jab him in the chest, then thought it wiser if I didn't touch him. "I tried. You didn't answer."
"You could have paged me."
"Again, no answer," I snapped. Oh, no. I was turning into my sister, and hated it. I didn't want to be snappy, or snippy, for that matter.
He dragged a hand over his face. The gash above his eye had scabbed over, the goose egg had begun to turn a pretty shade of purple. Stubble dotted his cheeks, his jaw. Clearly I had gotten him out of bed.
"Jesus, Nina, did you have to come here?"
"Oh, gee, sorry I'm intruding on your little love nest, but this is important."
"How'd you even know about this place?"
"Phone book."
He finally stepped out onto the small stoop, closing the door behind him. "What do you want?"
I sat down on the front step. "Riley."
"Can't you give the kid a break? He told me how you embarrassed him at school in front of his friends."
"I embarrassed him? Oh that's rich. And they aren't his friends. I know Riley. He wouldn't hang out with kids like those."
"Those kids are fine," he said tightly.
"Harmless?"
"Perfectly."
Reaching down, I grabbed one of the hairs on his calf and yanked. I knew from experience where to inflict pain.
"Ow!"
"You're such a liar. I don't know how long I've been blind to that, but I see it clearly now."
His face steeled. I had ticked him off. Okay, maybe I'd gone too far pulling out his leg hair, but damn, it felt good.
"A liar?" His voice was hard.
"Shall I count the ways?"
"That's personal, Nina. That has nothing to do with Riley."
He infuriated me. "You lied about the Skinz!"
"Did not."
I wished I had my hockey stick. "Those kids are trouble. I talked to Candy Carradon this morning. Seems she has a different viewpoint on those kids than you do."
"Your curiosity is going to get you into trouble one of these days."
"She said I should get Riley away from them as soon as possible. I'm sure my father would be happy to home school him."
"You'll do no such thing!"
"Why not?"
"Riley belongs in school. He's had enough turmoil in his world without you yanking him away from the only stability in his life."
"So you want me to leave him there to become more deeply enmeshed with a group who has nearly forty stolen guns in their possession?"
"That's not fact."
"So you knew!"
He stood up. "Stay out of this, Nina. I mean it." He stormed into the condo and slammed the door behind him.
The picture of maturity, I stuck out my tongue.
I stopped at home to grab a quick lunch and called Bridget at her office, but got her voice mail. I tried her cell and she answered on the third ring.
"Just wanted to check in," I said.
"Find anything?"
"A reluctant congressman and a scared paramedic. Not much to build a case on."
"Let's just drop it, Nina. Tim's not happy you're involved in all this. It's much too dangerous. We'll find the money for the PI sooner or later."
The last thing I wanted to do was give up.
"I know how Tim feels, but I really think I'm getting somewhere. Give me a few more days, Bridget. If I don't come up with anything by then, I'll back off."
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