Chapters (65)
- Title Page
- Copyright Notice
- Dedication
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Twelve
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Twenty
- Twenty–one
- Twenty–two
- Twenty–three
- Twenty–four
- Twenty–five
- Twenty–six
- Twenty–seven
- Twenty–eight
- Twenty–nine
- Thirty
- Thirty–one
- Thirty–two
- Thirty–three
- Thirty–four
- Thirty–five
- Thirty–six
- Thirty–seven
- Thirty–eight
- Thirty–nine
- Forty
- Forty–one
- Forty–two
- Forty–three
- Forty–four
- Forty–five
- Forty–six
- Forty–seven
- Forty–eight
- Forty–nine
- Fifty
- Fifty–one
- Fifty–two
- Fifty–three
- Fifty–four
- Fifty–five
- Fifty–six
- Fifty–seven
- Author’s Note
- Acknowledgments
- Also by Becky Masterman
- About the Author
- Newsletter Sign-up
“No. Dad said he would pay.”
I sighed, thinking about spending Christmas Day in bed with Carlo alone, getting out only for a new book and occasional sustenance. “You could come spend the holiday with us.”
No response to that. Instead, “So do you have anything more on that Jerry Nolan character?”
“I got a print and sent it to Weiss, but nothing yet.”
We stopped once at Mr. An’s for some takeout sushi. Along the way I kept tapping the brakes, taking a long time to coast to a stop at lights so I wouldn’t hit the driver in front of me if the brakes failed again. It was like a different car from the one on the mountain road, as it had been up to that point, no trouble at all.
We walked into the house through the garage door and let the two pugs snort and bounce around us with unrestrained joy. Maybe even more joy than usual, which I attributed to Gemma-Kate’s presence.
Out of habit I yelled, “Couch time!” and we all headed to the living room and sat down for rubbings. Gemma-Kate didn’t sit down with us, but leaned over and patted the head of one of them the way she had the first time she met them, pat, pat, pat, no real feeling for animals. Or anyone else, for that matter. I never could figure out why the dogs liked her, seeing as how she’d nearly poisoned one. Perhaps pugs are forgiving creatures.
“Is this one Al or Peg?” she asked.
I confess to sneaking a peek at the dog’s privates. They looked alike to me, too, and we were still getting used to differentiating between them rather than calling them simply the Pugs. “Peg,” I said, seeing no male appendage. At that point both dogs had taken whatever love they needed from me, and jumped off the couch. Gemma-Kate, too, had moved on, undisguisedly checking out the place for anything that piqued her curiosity.
“Well, this is not like you,” she said, going to the back door. “Are you actually my aunt Brigid or have you been taken over by aliens?”
No more distracted by either dogs or my thoughts about Gemma-Kate, I looked up.
“You left the back door unlocked,” she explained.
She was right, I don’t do things like that. I might forget which pug was which and whether I had my Miralax, but I don’t forget to lock the doors before I leave. Gemma-Kate inadvertently reached out to open it, but I stopped her with a whisper, almost just a movement of my lips. “Don’t touch it.”