“So go find yourself a boyfriend.” Cate crushed her empty can in her fingers, the crinkle of the aluminum adding a discordant note to the measured evensong of the cicadas.

“Easier said than done. I work with dead people, remember.”

Cate snickered. “I can see where that could be a problem.”

“Plus, guys tend to be freaked out by my profession.”

“You could always date a mortician.”

“Ha-ha.”

“I bet the right guy for you is out there somewhere.” Eve touched her sister’s hand. “And you have us to keep you company tonight. How long are you staying?”

“Only until morning. I have reports to write tomorrow, and Cate’s heading out of town for a few days.”

Eve turned to her older sister. “Where are you going?”

“My usual chill-out spot.”

“Cuivre River State Park?”

“Yep. A campsite above the lake has my name on it.”

“Well . . . as long as we’re all together tonight, how about a game of Scrabble here on the deck? I’ll make popcorn later.”

“The perfect antidote to a busy week. I’m in.” Grace moved her chair to the table.

“Me too.” Cate scooted over too.

Eve popped in the final bite of corn bread and stood. “I’ll be back as soon as I unearth the game from the guest room that’s crammed full of my living room furniture.”

“Don’t hurry. It feels good to sit and veg.” Cate settled back in her chair.

After picking up her empty bowl and brushing a few crumbs off the table, Eve retreated inside to scrounge up the game they’d enjoyed since they were old enough to spell. Sometimes the competition was cutthroat—but information had been shared, advice sought, and memories relived over the Scrabble board. Tonight would be no different.

Except she wasn’t talking anymore about Brent, no matter how much her sisters probed—for two reasons.

First, it might go nowhere, and second, the two of them had other priorities for the immediate future.

Yet as she wiggled through the furniture in the guest room in search of the game, the threats that had dominated her life these past two weeks receded. After all, they had a credible suspect under surveillance, Brent was working the case hard, and everything had been quiet for several days.

Conclusion? This disturbing chapter in her life was winding down.

And now that her world was settling back onto its axis, what else could possibly happen to disrupt it—or resurrect the danger?

18

DOUG SHUT OFF THE ENGINE of his car but stayed behind the wheel as the garage door rumbled down behind him, snuffing out the Saturday afternoon sun.

The potent scent of the lilies in the extravagant bouquet on the passenger seat swirled around him, churning his stomach.

Maybe this was a mistake.

What if she thought the gesture was silly? Or worse, suspicious. That he was bringing her flowers because he owed her an apology.