“Then find him. Take him with you. I think whoever took your bigfoot will be far more difficult to deal with than you can handle on your own.”

I raised a brow at her. “You just told me I should own myself.”

“I also told you not to be a fool.” Her eye crinkled nearly shut as she grinned at me. “Go on.”

“I’m going to get this house,” I said with as much conviction as I could muster. “I’m not losing you now. Not again.”

She shook her head. “One thing at a time, honey child. One thing at a time.”

And that first thing was getting to Eammon and forcing him to help me.

22

Eammon was not as easy to reach as I would have hoped. My phone was dead again, the power had been turned off in Gran’s house, and the closest little restaurant café was packed with people. They apparently thought that the fried chicken here was legit, but I’d heard rumors of it being made out of house.

“Damn tourists,” I muttered. But maybe this could work in my favor.

I got in line behind the other tourists. I tapped the shoulder of the man in front of me. He and his wife were holding hands, and they turned around as a unit.

“Would you mind if I borrowed your phone? The call is local, and my phone died.” I put my hands together, literally begging. The woman sighed and nodded.

“Of course. These phones don’t last anymore, do they?”

I agreed as she handed me her very slick phone that was twice the size of mine. I stared at it. “How do I turn it on?”

“Oh, just like this.” She turned the phone toward her, and it beeped. “Facial recognition.”

“Wow, cool.” Truthfully, it seemed like more of a pain in the ass to me, but what did I know? I tapped in Eammon’s number and thanks be to the stars above he answered.

“Who is this?” he growled.

The couple’s faces dimmed in their willingness to help. Apparently, the volume was louder than I realized. “Hey, Eammon. It’s me. I’m at the Chicken Shack on Bull Street. The one near the CVS,” I looked over at the pharmacy as I spoke, “I need a ride. I’ll even get you some chicken if you can get here in like ten minutes.”

“I’m not coming to—”

“Eric is not going to make it past tonight . . .” Their eyes widened and I cleared my throat. “If he doesn’t study for his exams. We have to help him, darling.”

He coughed. “Fine. I’ll be there in ten. I’ll bring Sarge.”

I cringed. “Don’t. Bother, I mean. Don’t bother him.”

His breathing changed, and then he hung up. I handed the borrowed phone back to the couple. “Thanks, we’ve been having real problems with our teenager. Especially since the divorce.”