“What’s all this about?” she asked. “Whatever our mom was arrested for this time, it can’t be major enough to require a search.” Except that auto theft’s pretty major, Molly thought. However, she knew that her car wasn’t hidden in her mom’s room.

“The judge disagrees,” Detective Mill snapped, and the two entered the house. Her mind whirling with thoughts about the best way to handle the situation, Molly stepped back out of their way.

Once they were in the living room, she was moving to close the door when she spotted three more vehicles pulling up in front of the house: two unmarked and one with DENVER CRIME SCENE UNIT printed on the side. The Villaneaus, a retired couple living across the street who were endlessly bitter that Molly’s family had the house with national park access instead of them, stepped outside and settled on their front-porch swing to watch the action.

“Great,” Molly muttered under her breath, and Felicity—the only one who hadn’t followed the first two cops deeper inside—met her gaze with a look of mutual dread. “This is going to be a huge mess.”

Felicity’s mouth flattened into a thin line. “It already is.”

Molly couldn’t argue with that.

Chapter 5

By the time the cops, detectives, and crime scene unit had made their significant mess and left, twilight had given way to full darkness. Molly paced the dining room, too anxious and furious to sit still, and glared at her cell phone.

“Just call him,” Charlie said for the tenth time, and Molly had to clench her teeth to keep from snapping something rude at her sister. “He’s the only one left.”

“I know.” Taking a deep breath, Molly forced herself to stand still. She’d tried all of their other contacts, but no one knew anything—or if they did, they wouldn’t share with her. This was their last possible source for information, and even this was a long shot. She just really didn’t want to call this number. As soon as she did, she’d be opening a huge, family-sized can of worms.

There wasn’t anyone else left to call, though, and they needed answers. After one more exhale that came out as a sigh, she tapped the number on her screen.

“What’s wrong, Pax?” John Carmondy answered immediately, so she didn’t even get a chance to prepare herself for hearing his bass voice.

“What’d she do?” It was rude to just blurt out the question. Molly knew that, but when was she ever polite to John? When you need answers from him, a smugly know-it-all voice in the back of her head reminded her. She hated that voice.

There was a pause, and Molly wondered if John was just as startled by her call as she’d been by his. She almost immediately dismissed the notion, since she was pretty sure John Carmondy wasn’t taken off guard by anything. He could be neck-deep in swamp water with piranhas chewing on one leg and an alligator chomping on the other, and he’d still be as cool and calm as could be, cracking jokes and looking hot in a mud- and blood-smeared way.