“Under the circumstances, you’re forgiven. Now fill me in.”

She gave her sister a quick recap, pulling a soda out of the fridge as she wound down. “Law enforcement is talking with my neighbors as we speak, but I’m not expecting any breakthroughs. Unless the person who left the package also left behind a piece of evidence or two—a long shot—we may have to chalk this up to a disgruntled listener who was more creative than most of my critics.”

“I don’t like this, Eve.”

Neither did she—but if she admitted that, Grace would toss all night too. No sense both of them missing out on their beauty sleep.

“I’m used to negative feedback.” Eve released the tab on the soda, and the CO2 hissed out. “This was nothing more than a prank. If the person had wanted to hurt me, the bomb would have been real.”

“Maybe next time it will be.”

“Gee, thanks for that cheery thought.”

“I’m being a realist.”

“More like a pessimist. You’re overreacting.”

“You always say that—and you’re too blasé about the risks of your job. Cate agrees.”

Eve snorted. “Like she has such a safe occupation.”

“She’s trained to deal with unsavory people—and she carries a gun. You ought to think about doing the same.”

“Get real, Grace.”

Her sister exhaled. “Fine. Scratch that idea. A gun would be useless to a woman who puts life and limb at risk to rescue a turtle stranded in the middle of a busy street. You can’t even kill a fly.”

“Not all of the Reillys were wired with a penchant for blood and guts, okay?” She sipped her soda.

“You are so like Dad.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment. He’s the kindest, gentlest man I know.”

“I agree. And that’s fine for someone in his profession. Archaeologists don’t tend to find ticking bombs on their doorstep.”

“Tell that to the ones in Syria and the Middle East who are trying to preserve antiquities. ISIS is not their friend.”

“Dad’s in Cambridge at the moment. Not exactly a hotbed of intrigue or danger. You’re changing the subject. Should I drive in?”

“No. I’m fine.” Or she would be, if her nerves ever quit pinging.

“So you say.” A beat passed. “What was in the package other than a ticking clock?”

“I don’t know that there was anything else in there. I’ll ask the detective later. He said he’d stop by after they finish canvassing the neighborhood.”

“I bet there was a message inside. You’ll let me know about any new developments, right?”

“I’ll text you with important updates.”

“Your definition of important and mine don’t mesh. If I got one letter like any of the vile missives directed at you, I’d be rethinking my profession.”