“You finally decided to go dirty blond.” Humor had always been our icebreaker, but it landed awkwardly today. She barely cracked a smile. “I’m so sorry, Mac. I’m sorry for everything.” I shifted my weight, unsure if I was welcome to hug her. Oh how I wanted to hug her.

“How’d you find me?” she asked curtly.

“Through Lily. I’ve been trying to reach you. I stopped by the house but there’s crime scene tape blocking the entrance. Are you okay?”

“No, I’m not okay, Robin. Nothing’s okay.”

I heard the pain in her voice. More than anything I wanted to reach across the gaping divide. I stretched out my hand to touch her, but she moved away.

“Can I come in? You need someone looking out for you.”

She sniffled, then wiped her nose on her sleeve. “No, I don’t think that’s a good idea. Everyone around me is a suspect in Owen’s murder, and I don’t want to drag you into this.”

“I don’t care about being dragged into it, Mac. That’s what friends are for—to wade through the muck together. You shouldn’t be alone right now.”

“I don’t know . . .” Her voice wavered. That was enough of a yes for me.

“That’s it—I’m not giving you a choice about it. I’ll go pick up something to eat. Grant called off work today and is watching Collette for me, so I’m all yours.”

I pushed my way past her, entering the modest living room—bedroom combo. The only thing “living room” about it was a love seat nestled into a corner across from two double beds. The suite stank of body odor and something I couldn’t identify. Rotting food, perhaps? Depression? I knew the scent of despair because I had done my share of wallowing in it.

I desperately wanted to clean for her, but I knew she didn’t need that right now. What she needed was a shoulder. The cushions on the scratchy plaid love seat hung halfway out, so I pushed them back in with my knee and sat down. I imagined Mackenzie was spending too much time curled up on this sofa and so wondered if a walk outside might be a better idea.

“What are you hungry for?” I asked, pulling out my phone. “I’ll find someplace close and we can go together. Get you out of this dank apartment.”

“I couldn’t eat even if I wanted to. I’m a mess right now . . . and they think Aria might have done it.” She joined me on the love seat. Up close her bedraggled state and reek of misery hit home.

“Aria? No way. I don’t understand. What does Aria have to do with what happened?”

“They said he had a heart attack . . . and they think it’s from either drugs or poison.”