“So there’s no bad news?”

A sympathetic look crossed his face. “No, Calla, there’s really no news at this point. We haven’t been able to locate anyone who matches the description you provided us in criminal records and Mack is still lying low, but that’s a good thing. That last part, that is.”

I frowned. “How so?”

He looked around, then motioned to the waiting room with a jerk of his chin. “Let’s take this in there.”

Ruh-roh.

I walked through the door he held open and sat in the first chair. As he unbuttoned his suit jacket, he sat across from me. “We’ve been putting in a lot of visits to Isaiah. We’ve got nothing leading back to him, no surprise there, and even though he keeps his hands clean, we know those hands are all over this shit, you follow me?”

Mysterious Isaiah strikes again. “Okay.”

“He doesn’t like screwups or loose ends. Mack right now is both of those things and he’s bringing the heat down on Isaiah, plus Isaiah can’t be too happy about the drugs going missing,” he explained, eyes fixed on me. “Mack’s got it coming from both ends with Isaiah. He’s in the same boat as . . .”

“As my mother?”

He didn’t break eye contact. “Yes. I hate saying that to you, but yes.”

Running my hands over my jeans, I sighed. There was nothing I could say to that. Nothing at all.

“If you hear from your mom, you need to let us know,” he continued. “I know that’ll be hard, but it’s not safe for her. We are literally the lesser of two evils. You get what I’m saying?”

Unsure if I could do that, turn my mom over to the police, I shifted my gaze away. I knew it would be the right thing to do if Mom happened to pop back up and even though I wanted to say I could, it would be different if that situation arose.

Detective Anders stood, and I figured the conversation was over. He stopped at the door, head tilted. “You have a good thing going here, right?”

Thinking that was an odd thing to say, all I did was nod.

“Then take to heart what I said about your mother, Calla. I know she’s blood. I know you love her. And I know these things are hard, but don’t let her take these good things away from you.”

Detective Anders’s words lingered with me the rest of the afternoon and into the evening. I tried not to think about it when Jax and I left to grab a late lunch at a small diner in town or as we spent the evening chilling in his living room. It was a lot to deal with—everything—and it was exhausting, both mentally and emotionally.

It was near eight in the evening and I’d just gorged myself on a pack of Twizzlers. On the way back from tossing the package in the trash, I smoothed my hand through my hair even though it probably still looked like a hot mess and then headed around the couch.