“Wait a minute”—Lottie wisely chooses to ignore Carlotta’s remark—“if we go along with that thinking, regarding the passwords, then I bet there’s a very good chance Chad Harris knows how to hack into any of Verity’s social media accounts, and that includes Insta Pictures.”
Everett nods. “We’ll track Chad down tomorrow and make him talk.”
Carlotta turns my way. “What about the social media conglomerate Evie’s got cookin’? You’re not gonna make her shut it down, are ya? She’s been hocking my book and increasing my sixteen through twenty-five-year-old fan base. If she shuts down the Insta show, it’s liable to cost me money.”
Lottie frowns over at her. “It’s liable to cost my baby its life.”
“It’s not costing anyone anything,” I tell them. “Whoever this is, I’m about to shut them down for good. Nobody threatens my family. It’s in my hands.”
“I feel better already.” Carlotta links arms with Lottie and navigates her toward the kitchen. “Come on, Lot. Let’s stuff our pie holes with mashed potatoes and gravy.”
“Sounds good,” Lottie says. “We can pile the mashed potatoes on that chocolate cake from Lava Java.”
“And put the gravy on the brownies,” Carlotta counters.
Lottie pats her on the arm. “Now you’re talking.”
Everett pulls me in by the sweater and glowers my way. “The last time you took things into your own hands it cost me plenty,” he seethes. “Don’t you dare make a move without me. There’s too much riding on the line this time. They could lock me up for a lifetime, but nothing can happen to that baby.”
I nod because he’s right.
“Fine. I won’t make a move without you.” I swipe his hand off my shirt. “I’m sorry I cost you everything.” My head turns toward the kitchen as I watch Lottie as she holds that precious bulge in her stomach, and how I wish I weren’t the one having to leave for the night. “You’ve cost me everything, too.”
I take off and herd away the crowd outside the doors until most of them take off.
Someone in this world is threatening to kill those I love the most.
And chances are they’ve already killed once.
This is one case I need to solve posthaste.
And I won’t rest until I do.
Next stop, tracking down Chad Harris. He’s going to cough up some answers, whether he wants to or not.
Nobody has a choice in anything anymore.
This ends now.
Before someone out there puts an end to someone I love.
Lottie
Noah and Everett made quick work of it and tracked down Chad Harris to the exact location he would be at tonight—the exact location we’re currently situated in as well, which just so happens to be a wedding.
Yes. A wedding.
As soon as Carlotta got wind of where we were headed, she decided to tag along, as did Keelie. They both claimed they were looking to make good on that bouquet toss. Not sure how that fares for Bear, but I’m guessing Keelie’s interest in the flowers has more to do with decorating her dining room table with a primo floral display than it does scoring another husband.
Every last one of us is dressed to the nines as we step into the back of the Fallbrook planetarium just in time to see the bride and the groom running down the makeshift aisle much to the applause of the crowd that’s gathered.
“Quick, Lottie, duck!” Keelie does her best to pull me out of the way just before the bride and groom can bolt right through my body.
The groom is dressed in a light gray suit and the bride has on a dove gray gown to match. Both are so lost in their laughter they hardly notice the fact a band of strangers just wandered onto the scene.
“Geez, Lemon.” Everett pulls me in close. “Who knew the happy couple would prove to be lethal as well.”
“Me,” Noah says, craning his neck into the crowd beginning to circulate.
It’s true. Noah warned me things could get dicey, but only as far as the suspect was involved.
The main hall at the planetarium is a spacious venue. The lights are dimmed and it enables the make-believe stars illuminated over the domed ceiling to sparkle and shine like the real deal.
“I see him,” Noah whispers. “Up by the stage.”
Sure enough, there’s a stage up front with a live band gearing up to get started as the staff works overtime to remove the ladder-back chairs from the room. It’s almost eight in the evening, and the crowd of well-dressed guests is already chattering away with jovial conversations as intermittent bursts of laughter fill the air.
I crane my neck toward the stage, and there he is with a gray ill-fitting suit—apparently a running theme in his life—but I’m guessing it has to do with those oversized muscles of his trying to squeeze inside his sleeves.
Light instrumental music begins to flow from the speakers as an entire army of waiters and waitresses set up what looks to be a buffet of appetizers.
“Oh, thank goodness,” Keelie groans. “I didn’t have time to eat dinner, and I’m half starved. I’ll need to get my energy up if I’m going to dance into the wee hours of the morning. Lottie, you don’t know how grateful I am for this getaway. I really needed a date night.”
“Glad I could help out.” I make a face because the real reason we’re standing here has to do with the fact a deranged killer is stalking my child. “Are you and Bear doing a little role-playing again?”
A couple of months back, Bear met us at a bar and pretended to be a mean executive from the North Pole, while Keelie played the part of the flirty head elf who had to save Christmas. Bear borrowed one of Everett’s suits without asking and almost got beat up by my handsome husband in
