Reece clamped his mouth shut.

“Mom,” I protested weakly.

That went largely ignored. “You still have that shotgun, right? You go and stay a night at her place and if someone comes in that door, you—­”

“Mrs. Arks, I don’t think that’s a wise idea. I think Gordon wants to be home for when his first child is born,” Reece interjected wisely. “Roxy is safe, and right now, that’s what matters.”

“What matters is you all catch this sick SOB.” Dad’s arms were tensed, folded across his chest as Reece explained everything that was being done. The cell phone was being searched for prints. My apartment would be wired with an alarm system. I’d be staying with Reece until that was done.

It took a while to calm down my parents and brother. Not that I blamed them for their reactions. They loved me and were worried about me, and I didn’t want them to be afraid—­and I didn’t want to be afraid of a nameless, faceless freak.

Maybe an hour or so passed, the scent of garlic and meat filling the air, when Mom invited us to join them for their weekly Sunday spaghetti dinner, and when I glanced at Reece, he nodded and I felt that stupid fluttering in my belly, like a nest of butterflies were going to gnaw their way out. As I got up to help get the plates, I realized we were missing someone.

“Where’s Thomas?” I asked, placing the stack of plates on the table.

Dad grabbed a beer out of the fridge. “Oh, he’s over at a friend’s, worshipping Satan or whatever it is he’s doing.”

My brows slowly inched up my forehead as I met Megan’s gaze. Grinning, she ducked her chin. “Well, that sounds like fun.”

“True.” Reece grinned from where he sat. “Nothing like a little satanic worship on a Sunday.”

Mom smacked Dad’s arm on the way back to the table. “Thomas is with his girlfriend. And they’re studying.”

Gordon snorted.

“Now, see what you all made me do.” She lifted her hands, clad in oven mitts. “Forgot to get the garlic bread.” When she had the plate out, she spun toward me and the bread shifted precariously along the baking sheet. “Oh! I almost forgot to tell you, since I didn’t get over to see you yesterday, which apparently was a good thing, because I probably would be like Dog the Bounty Hunter on someone’s ass right now.”

Dad sighed.

I couldn’t keep a straight face and giggled as I sat down next to Reece. “I’m picturing you with a blond mullet now.”

“I’d make that look good.” She scooped the bread into a basket. “I ran into Miss Sponsito. Remember her? She’s a curator at one of the museums in the city.”

Oh no. I picked up my glass. “Yes, I remember.”