“Do we need to do something? Call the police? Hide in the attic?”
Declan shook his head and pulled her to him. “No. She’ll probably call me back in a bit and explain what she meant.”
Charlotte laid her head on his shoulder.
Great. More calls. Something to look forward to.
Sitting on the sofa, eyes locked on the morning news, they watched a swirling gray mass move slowly east across the Gulf of Mexico toward them. Declan rested his cheek on top of her head as they snuggled.
“When the storm comes, you want to ride it out here?” he asked.
“Might be a good idea, since your house doesn’t come in a model that also comes with wheels.” She thought about what she’d want to bring and realized her soft-coated Wheaten would be object number one. “You don’t mind Abby being here?”
“No. Why would I mind Abby? She doesn’t even shed.”
“She still has to go to the bathroom in the rain though. Muddy paws.”
Declan pulled back and aped surprise. “You mean you haven’t taught her to use the toilet yet?”
“No. She’s a bohemian. I can’t control her.”
“I guess I’ll deal with it.” He kissed her. “It’ll be nice to have a few days off alone with no fear of people showing up.”
“No crazy Pineapple Portians popping in...”
“No Seamus...”
“No—” Someone knocked on the door so loudly it made them both jump. Charlotte closed her eyes. “Stephanie.”
“I don’t think she’d just come over.” Declan stood and Charlotte watched him, wondering how such a smart guy could be so naïve. Of course Stephanie would just come over. Any and every chance she could.
Charlotte sighed. “We can’t even talk about being alone without someone showing up.”
He opened the door to reveal a tall blonde on his doorstep.
Shocker.
“Hello, Stephanie,” Charlotte drawled with enough import to make Declan glance back at her.
She could see by his expression he’d realized his mistake and gave her the point.
Charlotte stood, her generalized annoyance over Stephanie’s appearance spiraling to dread. Something seemed more off than usual about her boyfriend’s ex. It took her a moment to put the clues together, but Stephanie’s pajama pants finally gave her misgivings a solid foundation.
Stephanie always appeared put together—perfect makeup, pressed clothing clinging to her body like paint, smirky menace on her lips. Today, her nemesis wore pajama bottoms and a sloppy t- shirt with ‘Lawyers do it in their briefs’ printed across the front.
Is that a coffee stain on her chest?
She didn’t appear to be wearing any makeup and her blonde hair, usually flowing around her face like a golden lion’s mane, today twisted clipped to the back of her head, sprigs of straw shooting everywhere.
What could rattle the ice queen so much she’d appear in public like that?
Seeing a monster rattled was much worse than seeing a monster. It implied a larger monster lurked close behind.
“Oh thank God!” exclaimed Stephanie upon seeing Declan.
Charlotte moved towards the door and Stephanie noticed her for the first time. “Oh, good, you made it, too.”
Stephanie’s voice radioed sarcasm, but something about her eyes said she was almost genuinely happy to see Charlotte.
That can’t be good.
Charlotte’s dread climbed a few more flights of stairs from her chest to her throat. “What’s wrong?”
She could see Declan sensing something wrong, as well.
“What do you mean, you made it too?” he asked.
Stephanie put a hand against the door casing to prop herself up, head hanging as if she were exhausted. “My mother’s here.”
“What?” Charlotte’s fear upon seeing her arch-nemesis flustered squished to the side, as her terror of Stephanie’s mother pushed forward.
“That’s impossible,” said Declan.
“You’d think so,” murmured Stephanie, sliding past him to enter the house.
Declan frowned. “Come on in.”
He closed the door, clearly resigned to whatever was about to happen. They both knew there was no stopping Stephanie from doing almost anything she wanted, and at this point, they needed to let the scene play out.
Charlotte’s thoughts bounced to the dead man near the ladder.
“Could she have killed someone already?” she asked.
“Huh?” Stephanie flopped onto the sofa where a moment ago Charlotte had been snuggling with Declan.
Oh, those were the days.
Declan looked at Charlotte. “What are you talking about?”
“It’s what I came over to tell you. Frank and I investigated a death this morning. It looked like an accident at first, but there’s a brick and blood—”
Stephanie barked a laugh. “You think my mother hit someone with a brick?”
Charlotte shrugged. “Okay. Not really her style, but—”
Stephanie shook her head. “Even if she did, making a murder look like an accident isn’t her M.O.”
“How can Jamie be free? Start from the beginning,” said Declan.
Stephanie threw her head back against the sofa, her eyes closed. “She showed up at my office this morning and started talking to me, like prison never happened.”
“Are you on meds?” asked Declan.
Stephanie opened her eyes to glare at him. “No, I’m not on meds.”
“Shouldn’t you be?” asked Charlotte.
Stephanie squinted at her, as if she were willing her eyes to shoot death-ray lasers. “I should have let her get you.”
Declan took a step closer to Charlotte. “I’m just saying you’re sure you didn’t imagine this or dream it?”
Stephanie rolled her eyes so hard her head moved with the motion. “Yes, I’m sure. I swear. What do you people think of me?”
“I’m going to assume that was rhetorical,” muttered Charlotte.
Declan continued. “So, you’re positive your mother’s out of jail?”
“Positive. I didn’t dream it. I’m not crazy.” She pointed a finger at Charlotte. “Don’t even.”
Charlotte shrugged and Declan tried again. “Did she explain? Did she say she broke out?”
“No. She said they let her out.”
Now it was Charlotte’s turn to roll her eyes. “Oh come
