“Hey,” she said. Then she stopped. Stared at Beau and then back at me.

“Is everything all right?” I asked.

“Where’s Purvis?”

I turned, revealing my bulldog trailing behind us.

“Oh, I was worried something happened to him,” she said. “I know you said he was eight.”

I nodded. Bulldogs typically didn’t live that long, and people who know the breed are aware of this.

“Yeah,” I said. “But he’s a survivor.”

Beau had been skittish around Marvin a bit, but Kelly was a natural with animals.

“His name’s Beau,” I said. “I, uh—adopted him from County. He was gonna get euthanized.”

Kelly let him smell her hand and then rubbed him as I opened the front door. “Hello, Beau-Beau,” she said.

She followed me in, and I wondered if this was what I thought it was. What Remy would call a “booty call.”

Kelly wore black leggings and a scoop-neck tee. She held a Kroger grocery bag in her hand, which she put onto the counter.

She pulled out a Dr Pepper and a bag of ice.

“I know you don’t drink,” she said. “So instead of dropping by with a bottle of wine . . .”

“Let’s break it open,” I said.

She uncapped it and poured two of them. We went into the living room, where I took a seat in the La-Z-Boy and she sat on the couch, diagonally across from me.

Kelly had seemed tense at the banquet, and more so now.

“Are you all right?” I asked.

“I couldn’t tell if you were avoiding me at the dinner,” she said.

“It’s not that,” I said. “With all the press there, I didn’t want a big story made out of it. You being where you were, on one side of the gun. And me on the other. And someone guessing we might be seeing each other now.”

Beau came over and sat near Kelly.

“So what does that mean about us?” she asked. “I’m always gonna be the girl on this side of the gun. I can’t change that.”

I hesitated. She was right. And it wasn’t her fault that she was an art teacher, caught in the cross fire at a school shooting.

“He likes you,” I said. Motioning at the dog. “So do I, I mean.” I hesitated. “I got some stuff I’m figuring out right now. A case.”

“I figured you were off of work. After what happened in Atlanta.”

I thought about the argument Remy and I had down inside the Golden Oaks. About what was holding me back. And if I couldn’t allow myself to care about a woman again.

“This isn’t for work,” I said, wanting to be honest with Kelly. “This case is personal,” I said. “It involves what happened to my wife. There’s been a break.”

“Oh wow,” she said. “That’s good, right?”

“Yeah,” I said. “It’s just—until I solve it . . .” I looked at her and then flicked my eyes downward.

“It’s hard for you to concentrate on us,” she said.