However, Dylan and I learned Emily and her husband weren’t getting along so well from our last school visit. And Emily is the one who told Dylan about my father pouring liquor into Tina’s empty cup. Was Emily trying to throw Dylan off her trail?
Either way, I still don’t understand how the poison that may start with a “B,” according to Madge’s snooping, ended up in Tina. Hopefully, Dylan knows, and this whole investigation can come to an end. Then Dylan and I can have the talk I’ve been putting off for so long. He’s been incredibly patient with me, so it’s time to put the guy out of his misery.
When Cooper sees our house, he starts tugging on the leash. He’s probably hoping Brittany has returned. I keep finding Cooper outside Brittany’s bedroom door, moping. Poor guy. He misses her as much as I do. The three of us made a lovely little family.
I’m just depressing myself further, so I shake off my sadness and open the front door. I plaster a smile on and call out, “Anybody home?”
There’s no response, so I unhook Cooper from his leash and head to the kitchen. Cooper takes off up the steps to see if anyone is up there.
The chalkboard that hangs on the kitchen wall has a note scribbled on it, clearly by Meg, who has the worst handwriting in the world. That old saying about doctors having poor penmanship is correct in her case.
I squint and tilt my head to help make out what the note says. I think it’s something about going to the store for more ice cream. Or it might say, we went rock climbing. Hard to tell. Whatever they’re doing, I’m sure they’ll be back soon. So I grab the spices, andouille sausage, veggies, chicken, shrimp, and rice to get started.
Cutting up the ingredients and portioning out the spices sends a familiar calm through me. Cooking has always done that. Far different from the stress my job as an engineer invoked. It reminds me that being a chef is what I need to get back to. Running Mom’s bookstore was never something I loved and never would have been my passion.
Maybe my uncle taking it away won’t be so bad. Instead, it might force me down another path. One I might be much happier on in the end.
After my jambalaya is simmering over a super-low fire, I head upstairs to Brittany’s room for her schoolbooks. Cooper is in the hall outside the door, his teddy bear face between his paws, waiting for his sister to return to him. The sight of my brokenhearted dog sends a sharp pang to my chest. “I’m sorry, pal. Want to come inside and jump on her bed for old time’s sake?”
Cooper’s ears perk up at the usually forbidden behavior, and he beats me through the open door. By the time I move inside, Cooper has jumped on Brittany’s bed and made a mess of what was probably once a neat stack of books.
I kneel to gather the books on the floor. The history book is open to the part about the British Empire. How such a little country could have ruled so much of the world at one time amazes me. Next, I pick up the science book I’ll return to Emily. There’s an old quiz shoved between pages. I’m happy to see Brittany got an A. I’m just about to throw the paper out when a drawing on the page catches my eye. The textbook shows a cave painting depicting three men attacking prey with their tiny spears. How they managed to kill animals with the tools they had back then is pretty impressive too. I can’t remember how they did that specifically, but it still impresses me to this day.
Curious, I read the words under the picture that explain what I’d forgotten. That the South American hunters used poisonous secretions from small frogs that ate certain beetles to coat their spears.
Seeing Brittany’s books reminds me how much I used to love school. Not that I’d have ever admitted that to anyone back then, but it was a fun escape from my otherwise crazy life.
I snap the book closed and gather them all up. “Come on, Coop. I bet I can find a treat for you downstairs.”
Coop plops himself on Brittany’s pillow and refuses to budge. Even for a treat. “Suit yourself. When you get hungry enough, you’ll come to your senses.”
I go downstairs and balance the heavy books in one arm while I grab my phone and keys off the entry table with my other. Once outside, I lock the front door and head down the hill. The crisp salty air stings my nose a little as I hurry toward the path that runs along the cliffs. The books didn’t seem so heavy at home, but the farther I walk, the heavier they seem to get.
I’m just about to the school when a familiar voice calls out, “Need some help?”
“Where were you ten minutes ago when I started out?” I head toward Dylan’s police SUV idling at the curb. I smile and lean the books on his open window to give my arms a break. “I’ve been one step behind you the last few days. Don’t tell me you’re about to talk to Emily too.”
“I was looking for you.” He motions with his thumb. “Hop in. I need to tell you something.”
My stomach drops like a lead weight. “About my father?” The end-of-the-day school bell rings, and a stampede of kids heads toward us.
“I’d rather talk in private.”
“’Kay.” I lift the books and then make my way around the car. Dylan has already pushed open the passenger side door for me, so I
