“Cody lives across from the police station?” Adam said. “That doesn’t seem too bright if he’s up to his eyeballs in something illegal.”

I shrugged. “Another way of pretending he has nothing to hide.”

A kid raced between us, nearly knocking Adam off the curb. I glanced over my shoulder to see the sidewalks filling with children.

“Shit!” I said. “What time is it?”

I checked my watch. Three-thirty. I swore again. “I told Tiffany I’d be there before her kids got home. She won’t talk to us if they’re there.”

I picked up the pace. As we approached the Radu house, I heard a baby crying. That wouldn’t make things any easier—fussy baby, kids getting home ...

The Radus’ neighbor was out on his porch. An old guy in a house-coat, baggy trousers, and slippers, he looked like he’d just woken up, and from the scowls he was sending next door, I could guess what woke him.

When we started up the walk, he yelled, “Tell that girl to shut her baby up or I swear I’ll do it for her.”

“I’m sure she’s trying to,” I said.

“Not very hard. The brat’s been wailing for an hour now.” He strode to the sidewalk and yelled across the road at Bruyn. “Can’t you do something about that? She’s disturbing the peace.”

Bruyn waved, like he couldn’t hear what the old man was saying, then turned and went back inside.

“It’s a baby,” I said. “It cries. And right now you’re making a helluva lot more racket, so how about you shut it.”

He gaped at me, then glowered at Adam, as if it was his fault for not keeping me in line. Adam rang the bell. The neighbor turned to head inside, then noticed a towheaded girl in pigtails coming along, holding the hand of a smaller pigtailed blonde.

“You there,” the old man said. “Tell your mother—”

“Zip it, old man,” I said. “Go back inside and get dressed before you get arrested for flashing little girls.”

Adam chuckled and stepped aside to let the girls get to the door.

“We were just ringing for your mom,” he said. “I think she can’t hear with the baby crying.”

The older girl nodded shyly, eyes down. She tugged on the screen door. Adam held it open for her. The girl turned the knob, but the inside door didn’t budge.

“It’s locked,” she said.

“Mommy must be having her nap,” the younger one said as her sister rang the bell. “She takes a nap when Taylor does and she always locks the door. She usually sets her alarm, but if she’s really tired, she forgets.”

“Do you have a key?” Adam asked.

Both girls shook their heads. “Mom’s always home,” the older one said.

“Can I try it?” I asked.

The girl nodded. I cast an unlock spell under my breath and turned the knob.

“Huh,” I said. “Must have just been stuck. Go on in. Tell your mom we’re here.”

The older one glanced back to make sure we weren’t going to follow them. I let the screen door close. Inside, the baby’s howls turned to whimpers as she heard her sisters.

“Mommy!” the younger one said, racing past her sister as she dropped her backpack. “We’re home! Did you make the cupcakes? My teacher said I need two dozen for the bake sale and—Mommy? Come on, Mommy. Wake up!” Giggles erupted, punctuated by squeaking springs.

“Don’t jump on the bed,” her sister said. “Mom?”

There was a pause, a long one, and my heart started thumping. Adam gripped my elbow, reassuring.

The older girl ran into the hall. She saw us and started, like she’d forgotten we were there.

“Is everything okay?” I called through the screen.

“It’s Mom. She won’t wake up.”

twenty-nine

Tiffany lay curled up on her side, under the covers. Her younger daughter still stood on the bed, uncertain. She gave a tentative bounce, and for a second, I saw myself years ago, bouncing away as my mother sang, Ten little monkeys bouncing on the bed...

My mom. Their mom. Oh, God. Please no.

I touched Tiffany’s neck. She was warm, but I couldn’t find a pulse. I shook her shoulder. Her head lolled back, eyes still closed.

I turned. “Adam—”

He was already running back into the hall. “I’ll get them.”

“Mom?” the older girl said, her voice wobbling.

“She’s sick,” I said. Liar, liar. “Take your sister and—”

I stopped. I wanted them out of that room. God, I wanted them out of that room. But I’d just been found over another dead body. I couldn’t stay in there alone. So I scooped up the younger girl and carried her out, motioning for her sister to follow.

“Let’s get the baby, okay?” I said. “The doctor is on the way and your mom—”

I stopped myself before I said “your mom will be fine.” I wouldn’t. When my mother died, they hadn’t told me for days, and that only made it worse.

The baby was howling again. When we walked into her room, she was sitting up, face red, chubby body trembling with exhaustion.

The oldest girl snatched a cartoon character pillow out of the crib. “She isn’t supposed to have that in bed.”

I lifted the baby out. She stopped crying and peered at me through red-rimmed eyes. A hiccup, as if she remembered me. Then a wail. I wasn’t a stranger, but I wasn’t her mother.

I motioned the older girl to the rocking chair and settled the baby in her lap as Bruyn headed down the hall. Seeing us, he stopped. The older officer, right on his heels, almost ran into him.

Bruyn stared at the girls for a second, winced, then turned toward the front door and yelled, “Mom?”

His mother hurried into the baby’s room, clucking and calling the girls by name. I slipped out to follow Bruyn. Adam came up behind me and squeezed my hand. We headed into the master bedroom.

“She’s dead,” I murmured when I was sure the girls couldn’t hear. “I didn’t tell her daughters—”

“Good.” Bruyn checked for a pulse. “Doc’s on the way. We’ll tell them she’s sick until their dad gets here. I’ve called him, but he’s not answering. Probably sees my number and figures I’m just harassing him.” Bruyn straightened and looked at me. “You seem to find a lot of dead bodies, don’t you?”

Adam stepped forward, ready to snap something.

I cut him off. “We just got here. You saw us coming up the road. I had an appointment. The girls got here right after we knocked. We didn’t go in before them. You can ask the neighbor.”

Bruyn picked up a needle that lay beside an open Bible.

So Tiffany Radu had killed herself ... right after I’d threatened her.

“Did you move anything?” Bruyn said.

I shook my head. Adam slipped out as I recited my steps. As I did my gaze kept going to that Bible. Its edges were so perfect it looked as if this was the first time it had been cracked open.

I glanced down at the page. Exodus 22. Something about that twanged a memory. I could count on one hand the number of times I’d been to church, but I knew that chapter. Why?

“Looking for comfort,” Bruyn said, following my gaze. “She wasn’t a churchgoing woman, but people do that at the end, wanting proof they’re going someplace else. Someplace better.”

When the doctor arrived, I went to find Adam. He was looking around the house. As we passed the baby’s room, I glanced in. My gaze went to that pillow on the floor, the one the oldest girl had thrown out of the crib. I paused, staring at it like I’d stared at the Bible, not quite knowing why. Adam didn’t say a word until we were halfway to the Jeep.

“You had nothing to do with Tiffany Radu’s death,” he said.

“Never said I did.”

“But you’re thinking it. That woman didn’t kill herself because of any threat from you, Savannah.”

“So it’s just a coincidence that she came home after a fight with me and committed suicide?”

“She didn’t commit suicide. She was murdered.”

I glanced over sharply. “What’d you see?”

“Not a damn thing. Whoever did it was careful.”