Cora shuddered out a relieved breath and he realized he hadn’t spoken with her since she’d called that afternoon to tell him that Dani Novak had made contact. “Hey, yourself,” she said, her voice rough, the way it got when she was crying and didn’t want anyone to know.

“I worried you,” he said. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay. I’m fine. Are you?”

Was he fine? “No,” he whispered. “I don’t think I am. I’m safe,” he added before she could freak. “But I’m not fine.”

“Where are you?” she asked gently.

“In a hotel. The cops closed off Wes’s apartment. Looking for evidence.”

“Of . . . ?” Cora asked warily.

Grant huffed bitterly. “Well, Wes is dead. And so is Laurel.” He told her everything, and when he was finished, he was even more tired than before.

“Oh, baby,” Cora murmured. “I’m so sorry. I’m sorry that Wes is dead, but he left you to deal with all of this and that wasn’t fair. When are you coming home?”

She didn’t ask it in a nagging kind of way, but more like the “Come home and I’ll hug you” kind of way that always made him feel warm. He missed her. Missed the kids. Missed the normalcy of it all. He hated Wes’s crazy life.

“Not yet. I’m at the Westin in Cincinnati. I have to make arrangements for . . .” He exhaled. “For Wes’s body. The detectives gave me the name of a local mortuary service.” A sob was building and he tried to shove it down. “The detectives were all nice.”

Nicer than they should have been, considering he’d withheld evidence from them. Hadn’t immediately reported the brick of heroin in Wes’s safe or the piles of cash. “I met Dr. Novak,” he said. “She was lovely.”

“What did she have that connected to Laurel?”

Grant shook his head in disbelief. “A house. But it isn’t really Laurel’s. Wes won it in a very illegal poker game.”

“Who does the house belong to, then?”

“Legally? I don’t know. Maybe me. But we don’t need a house. We have one.”

“We have a lovely house that’ll just get lovelier when you’re back in it.”

The tightness in Grant’s chest eased a fraction. “The house really belongs to two boys, Michael and Joshua Rowland, sons of a couple who were murdered by the same man who killed Wes. If it is legally mine, I’ll sell it and put the money in trust for them. If it’s not, Dani will figure it out. She’s their foster parent.”

“I think that sounds like a very good plan. Those kids are going to need all the support they can get.”

“Thank you,” he whispered.

“For what?”