“How did you know it was her birthday?” Grant moved back.

“Hannah mentioned it when I talked to her earlier.” Brody stepped into the warm house.

“You talked to Hannah?”

“I did.” Brody took off his jacket and hung it on a coat tree by the door. “I have some news for you.”

Grant scanned his face. “Something I’m not going to like?”

“Yes. Sorry.”

“Brody, I didn’t know you were coming,” Ellie said from the end of the hall.

Grant lowered his voice. “Will the news keep ’til after the party?”

“It’s not pressing.” Brody nodded, following Grant toward Ellie.

“The house is really coming along,” Brody said. The exterior of the home might be finished, but inside, the place was clearly a work in progress.

“Thanks.” Grant moved back to let him into the foyer. “Got those windows replaced just in time. Looks like a cold snap’s coming next week.”

Quiet conversation buzzed from the back of the house. They walked past the formal living room, currently housing construction supplies, and a dining room begging to be renovated, into the newly remodeled kitchen. Wood floors, honey-colored cabinets, and bronze granite made a warm space. A picture window looked out on an expanse of grass. A shallow stream separated the rear yard from the woods that backed the property. A tire hung from a massive old oak tree. The Barretts were making a home here. They deserved it. They’d been through hell.

He set his gift down on the center island.

“You didn’t have to bring a present, Brody.” Ellie smiled. She looked to Grant. “How did you know it was Faith’s birthday?”

“He talked to Hannah earlier,” Grant said.

Ellie blinked. She put a hand on Grant’s arm, no doubt assuming the call was about the case.

The thought of Lee and Kate’s murders brought Brody’s molars together hard enough to send a spike of pain through his temple. He loosened his jaw. The Barretts were moving forward. He needed to do the same, but the Barrett case had tainted Scarlet Falls with extreme selfishness and violence.

“Where’s the birthday girl?” Brody asked.

“You might want to keep your distance. Faith is heavily into textures these days.” Ellie nodded toward a high chair pulled up to the long farmhouse table. An orange substance coated the baby’s face and hands. Carrots, he decided. With a happy squeal, she fished in the bowl suction-cupped to her tray, grabbed a chubby fistful, and squeezed. Mushed carrots oozed through her fingers. The dog circled the chair, licking bits of food from the wooden floor.

He laughed, the sight of the happy, goo-covered baby easing some of his tension. “Did she get any of it into her mouth?”

“Not much,” Ellie said. “Sit down. Let me get you something to eat.”