Thanks to Pete.
He moved behind her, wrapped an arm around her waist, drawing her against him, and pressed a kiss against the top of her blonde head. “Something’s bothering you.”
She sunk back into him. “I’m just…nervous,” she said, her voice flat. “We have a lot to get done today.”
“And tomorrow. And Monday. And…”
She huffed a laugh and turned to face him. “You’re not helping.”
“And you’re not telling me everything.”
Her lowered lids hid her eyes.
From outside, a slamming car door interrupted whatever Zoe might’ve been about to say. She broke free of his embrace. “Our help has arrived.”
“We’re going to talk,” he called after her as she headed for the door. “Later.”
She paused, glanced back, and gave one quick nod. “Later.”
Zoe opened the door to Abby, who stepped inside, shot Pete a look he could only describe as guarded, then turned a more eager smile at Zoe. “I thought you could use an extra hand.”
Pete swore they were conducting a full-scale conversation without exchanging a word. Whatever was going on, he didn’t like it. “I didn’t expect to see you today.” Especially since Seth had promised to help out as well.
Abby glanced at him. “I didn’t have anything else to do.” Her eyes shifted back to Zoe. “You don’t mind, do you?”
“Not at all.” Zoe looked beyond Abby. “Here comes Scott.” Zoe spun to face Pete. “Can you get him started loading stuff? I need to lock the cats in the spare room.” She looked at Abby. “Give me a hand?”
He wanted to ask why she needed help with the cats but sensed he’d only receive a clipped evasive answer. “Okay.”
Zoe scooped up the orange tabby that didn’t mind being held and shoved him into Abby’s arms before corralling the squirmy one for herself. The women retreated to the far end of the house, but not before Zoe snagged one of two folders from the antique washstand next to the door. Pete hadn’t noticed what was in either of the folders, which she’d brought home last night. As he moved to let his future brother-in-law in, he flipped the second one open. Elizabeth Landis’ autopsy report.
“Welcome,” Pete said as Scott entered. “Thanks for agreeing to drive down and lend a hand.”
“Glad to help.” Scott looked around. “I thought I saw Zoe.”
Pete thumbed toward the bedrooms as he closed the door against the chilly air. “She and one of my officers are discussing business.”
Scott stuffed his hands deep into his jacket pockets. “I think she might be avoiding me.”
“Why would she be avoiding you?” Pete headed for the still-unpacked coffee maker.
“Because I’m not coming to the wedding.”
He stopped and pivoted slowly to face his future brother-in-law.
“She didn’t tell you?”
She had not, but that explained Zoe’s mood and quick exit when she’d spotted Scott. “Does your decision have anything to do with me?” Pete asked. “Because I’d like to remind you, she’s your sister first and foremost.”
Scott held his gaze. “No. First and foremost, Christopher is my son.”
They stared at each other, like two bull elks contemplating battle. A knock at the door behind Scott shattered the silence but not the tension.
“I promised to help, and I will,” Scott said. “Unless you’d prefer I leave.”
“No.” If Zoe had already agreed to having him here regardless of his decision to blow off her big day, Pete wasn’t about to be the one to toss the jerk to the curb. He shot a glance over his shoulder. “There’s coffee ready. Help yourself.”
He and Scott brushed past each other as Pete returned to the door and swung it open to Seth’s smiling face.
Great. Zoe and Scott. Seth and Abby. And Kimberly was en route. It was going to be an interesting day.
Standing in the spare bedroom, Zoe watched Abby read John Doe’s autopsy report. “It took me three hours to find those,” Zoe said. “The computer file didn’t give me much, so I dug up Franklin’s written notes in case they had more details.”
Abby’s disappointment was evident. “I’m sorry I made you waste so much time.” She closed the folder. “I guess my hunch was wrong.”
“You sure?” Zoe took the folder, opening it again.
“What do you see that I don’t? He was an addict who overdosed. Nothing suspicious about it.”
Zoe reread the notes for the fifth or sixth time. “I have a feeling Franklin had a few questions about it.”
“Why?” Abby moved to Zoe’s side, looking over her shoulder.
“Franklin noted that John Doe showed obvious signs of a history of drug use.”
“Right.”
Zoe placed a finger on the page. “But this part wasn’t in the official computerized report. All the old needle marks had healed over. Franklin felt the deceased had been clean for some time prior to the fatal overdose.”
“So? Do you know how many junkies get out of rehab, clean and sober, and go right back to using?”
“And there’s this.” Zoe flipped to the lab results. “The fatal dose of heroin contained high levels of fentanyl.”
“Let me repeat. So?”
“I thought…” Zoe met Abby’s disappointed but resigned gaze and realized she was right. John Doe was just another addict who temporarily got clean only to be sucked back into old habits and fall victim to heroin laced with deadly fentanyl. Zoe closed the folder. “Looks like we both wasted our time on this one.”
“I appreciate you trying,” Abby said. “It means a lot to me.”
Zoe tucked the file under her arm. “Grab a box. We need to make it look like we haven’t been wasting time this morning too. And make sure neither of the cats sneaks out.”
They returned to the kitchen as Pete opened the door to Seth. Zoe caught the look of unpleasant surprise on his face and turned to see Abby wearing the same expression.
“Coffee’s ready,” Pete said to Seth and gestured to the kitchen.
Scott leaned against the sink, a Styrofoam cup in hand, and nodded a
