“Wait,” I say. “Josh came to work yesterday?”

“Yeah,” Angela says. “He was here all day.”

“I thought he called in? Said he had the flu or something?”

Angela frowns and shakes her head. “Not that I know of. He definitely didn’t have the flu. He was strutting around like usual, giving Lucy shit over some letter she forgot to type up for him, and complaining about the espresso machine.”

“What time did he leave?”

“I don’t know—about four or five o’clock? Early enough that I thought he probably had a date with his girlfriend. Why?”

I look at her blankly, my mouth open. “I . . . no reason,” I say.

“It’s weird as fuck for sure,” Angela says, tossing back her long, dark hair. “Anyway, glad to see you back.”

“Thanks,” I say. “See you tomorrow.”

Angela strides off toward the elevators in her sky-high heels, briefcase in hand.

I watch her go, my thoughts chaotic and troubled.

I need to talk to Uncle Oran.

* * *

24

Raylan

I drive my mom, Bo, and the boys up to the hospital to see the baby. Even though this is his third time around, Grady looks like he’s over the moon at becoming a father again. He keeps saying, “She’s the prettiest little thing you’ve ever seen. You’ve never seen a prettier baby. Call up those people who make the Baby Gap ads—I bet they’d pay a million dollars for a picture of her.”

Shelby looks a lot more exhausted than Grady, but equally pleased. She’s sitting up in the hospital bed in her blue gown, her blonde hair in a messy bun on top of her head. The baby is all wrapped up like a little hot dog in a bun, laying parallel across her lap.

The boys stare at the baby like it’s an alien.

“I thought it was gonna be a girl?” Tucker says.

“She is a girl,” Shelby tells him.

“Then how come her hair’s so short?”

“That’s just how babies come out,” Grady says. “You were bald as an egg ‘till you were two. Look, she’s got a little hair at least.” He points to the pale blonde fluff on top of her head, which makes her look like a fuzzy yellow chick.

“She’s gorgeous,” my mom says. “Let me hold her!”

Shelby passes the baby over obligingly. To me, she says, “Where’s Riona?”

“She went home,” I say.

“Oh,” Shelby says, looking disappointed. “How come?”

“She doesn’t need me anymore,” I say. “As a bodyguard.”

“When’s she coming back?” Lawson asks.

“I don’t know,” I say.

In my head I think, Probably never. But there’s no point telling Lawson that.

My mom looks over at me, her first little granddaughter cradled in her arms.

“You’re going to stay though, aren’t you?” she asks me.

“Yes,” I promise her. “I’m staying.”

“Good,” Mom says. “Hold your niece.”

She passes the warm bundle of the baby into my arms, before I can answer. Frances is lighter than I expected—too light to be a whole entire person, and yet that’s exactly what she is.