Clearly shocked, Bill stammered. “How . . . ?”
“You don’t need to know that. Why don’t you show me where the letters are?”
Bill’s shock turned into something else. For a second it looked like panic. “Now?”
“Why not?”
“I’m, uh . . . no.”
“No?”
Bill pulled back his shoulders, lifted his chin. “You’ll need a search warrant for that, Detective.”
Kevin held his surprise well, I’d give him that. He’d be great at poker. “You sure you want to go that route, Bill?”
“I’m sure.”
“All right, then.”
Bill glared at me, then went back into Growl.
209
“He’s not going to take this out on Riley, is he?” I asked.
“Not if he wants to live. What?” he said. “What’s that look?”
“You’re a good dad.”
“But a rotten husband.”
“Maybe you’ll be a good ex.”
“Five days.”
Oh God. He’d been counting too.
“I’m sorry, Nina.”
“I know.”
I drove toward home wondering about Bill’s evasiveness.
Why not just show Kevin the blackmail letters? Was he afraid to admit why he was being blackmailed?
He’d have to eventually.
Unless he planned to get rid of the letters, deny they ever existed.
Too bad I’d made copies.
I wondered how soon Kevin would get a warrant. Probably not until morning. Our county judges were notorious for not liking to be disturbed at night unless it was an emergency of epic proportions.
Maybe Kevin could pull a few strings.
I was too. I was still torn about letting him go for good.
My heart was still somewhat attached to him, like a painful sticky burr.
What I guess I really needed to decide was if I was ready to move on with Bobby.
Was I?
My cell rang, and I wondered if it was Bobby, if it was di-vine intervention telling me what I should do.
I looked at the readout.
Ana.
210
Heather Webber
Bummer.
“Hey,” she said. “Where are you?”
“Tylersville headed east.”
“Turn around. Come pick me up.”
“Why?”
“Jake called.”
“Jake?”
“You know, the cute bartender. He knows what Jean-Claude’s been up to.”
“What?”
