He was right about what he said about Madison, I think as I pull away from the house. She’ll be unlucky to get a fine and a community service order. Her father will pull out all the stops for her to walk away with a slap on the hand—but then again, as soon as Alyssa files divorce proceedings and his council finds out how much of a smily snake he is, I suppose he’ll try to save his reputation by insisting she get a substantial punishment so she learns the consequences of her actions.

I still don’t understand what Madison did, why she’d harass her best friend. I doubt I ever will. Nick is a nice guy. Don’t get me wrong. But he isn’t that nice, least of all trustworthy.

And as for Ellis… That I’m never going to understand. I’m not even going to try to. The whole thing is a mystery, so I’ll leave the people who should be figuring it out to figure it out.

I park outside the office and grab my purse from the backseat before I walk in. Grecia is sitting in her office, alternately filing her nails and typing. Mike is humming in the kitchen, the clatter of cups the giveaway that he’s making coffee. I’ll bet it’s his third cup.

I throw Grecia a wave and head for the stairs, but she stops me.

“Mrs McDougall is waiting in your office. I hope you don’t mind. She wanted some space to herself while she waited.”

“Not at all. Has she been waiting long?”

“Five minutes. I knew you were with Brody. Is he okay?”

“He’s getting there. Thanks.” I smile and resume my journey upstairs to my office.

Alyssa is sitting in one of my red chairs, facing the window that overlooks the park. Her hair is swept back into a loose chignon, and somehow, she still looks perfectly elegant. The only thing that belies her compsure is the redness around her eyes.

“Thank you,” she says calmly, standing up and coming to take my hands. “For coming in when you did. And for saving her life.”

“I doubt she’d express the same sentiments.” I squeeze her fingers. “What can I help you with?”

“Madison has posted bail and we’re going to visit my parents, like I mentioned yesterday. I think it’s best for both of us to be out of town when her father returns tonight. This way, I can tell her what’s going to happen without us fighting.”

“That’s probably for the best.”

“Which means…” She reaches for the small, black purse hanging off her shoulder and removes her wallet. Two long, rectangular pieces of paper are handed to me. “Two checks. One which should more than cover your expenses incurred for your work, as I understand Randy paid you all up front.”

“Yes, ma’am, he did. This isn’t necessary.”

“He agreed to pay extras. This is that.” She puts that down on the desk and gently lays the second on top of it. “The second is for your brother. He was injured while chasing after my harebrained husband, and Randy and I are both in agreement that, for once, he should pay someone who needs it instead of paying someone off. He spoke with his insurance company on an advisory basis, and the amount on the check should cover Brody’s medical costs and allow him to take unpaid leave instead of using his vacation days after his sick days are exhausted.”

“I—Alyssa, you—”

Oh. My. God.

“You don’t need to do that,” I manage, swallowing hard.

“We do. My husband has a lot to repent for, and let’s say that, if he’d like certain private images to remain private, he’s willing to take some of my advice.” She winks and stands. “Thank you, Ms. Bond. I’ll see myself out.”

She turns to the door, leaving me dumbstruck and staring after her, and shuts it behind her.

I’m not even going to look at that amount. I don’t want to know what she’s done, but I know that my mom is gonna need her own medical attention when she finds out. Although the police provide insurance for Brody, I know that the Holly Woods PD doesn’t have that much money to go around for serious injuries. I suspect Alyssa McDougall knew that, too.

And I wouldn’t be surprised if there’s a sudden rise in funding for them after this.

I take a deep breath, turn the checks over, and zip them safely into my wallet for cashing tomorrow.

I uncap the jar of sauce and drop it over the chicken, bacon, and broccoli. God forbid if Nonna ever saw me using jarred pasta sauce. I’d be kidnapped and locked in her kitchen until I made the perfect marinara.

I mean, I can make a pretty good marinara. I just have to want to do it. And after the last few days, I most definitely do not want to do it.

Drake sets a glass of wine down next to the stove and kisses my shoulder. “You look tired.”

“That’s a polite way of telling someone they look like shit.”

He laughs and opens the drawer, pulling the bottle opener out. He uncaps his beer and drops the opener onto the counter. I make a pfft kind of noise, grab it, and deposit back into its home. The drawer.

The counter is not where utensils belong unless they are being used.

“You want me to tell you that you look like shit?”

“Do you want me to break your balls?”

“Depends on your method of breaking them. Will you be naked while you do it?”

“Trust me when I say that, if you tell me I look like shit, I’ll most definitely not be naked.”

“Ah, well. Can’t blame me for tryin’.” He laughs and sits at the kitchen table. “Brody seems better.”

I tilt my head to the side. “I think he’s milking Nonna for all of her cooking skills at this point. When I left earlier, he mentioned garlic bread and she took off like a bat out of Hell. I have to promise to name my firstborn after her for a glass of water.”

“That’s ’cause y’all fight all the time.”

“Hey now. We fight all the time and you pour me wine.” I hold the glass up and sip. “Thank you, by the way.”

“You’re welcome.”

I turn the stove off after stirring the pasta one last time and put the colander in the sink so I can drain it. It feels really odd cooking for Drake in my own kitchen, but his other suggestion was that we go to Giovanni’s. He spent three hours with the mayor this afternoon, and despite my understanding his need to unwind, my need for my yoga pants was slightly stronger, so I agreed to cook.

It feels a little too homey to be completely comfortable though.

I spoon pasta onto two plates and then add the chicken and sauce on top of it. The parmesan is already in a small bowl in the center of the table along with the cutlery, so I move the pans to the sink before going for the plates.

Drake steps up behind me and beats me to it. He takes a plate in each hand with a chuckle and steps back, sweeping them around me. I shake my head even as I smile. Maybe he’s not a total asshole all the time.

I settle for grabbing my wine glass. I have a feeling he knew exactly what my priority tonight was.

“So we got a little more out of Ellis,” he says, swallowing some food. “Turns out she’d been seeing Natalie for a long time, and when she and Nick broke up, she thought she’d come out as bisexual. When she didn’t, they fought a lot, but because of the nature of their relationship with Ellis being the dominant one, she effectively punished her through sex.”

I wrinkle my face, stabbing a pasta shell. “That is…unusual.”

Drake shrugs. “You’d think. Along with that, Ellis assumed their relationship would be exclusive. Natalie had said as much, so when it didn’t happen and she found the video of her and the mayor on Natalie’s laptop, she realized Natalie was using her to exploit the mayor and was destroyed. And the rest she already told you. It was a crime of passion.”

“Wow. Imagine loving someone that much that you’d kill them.” I pause and point my fork at him. “Actually, no, don’t. That’s kind of a horrific thought.”

“I agree. Besides, I don’t need to be in love with you to want to kill you on a regular basis.”