Page 88 of Buried Too Deep

Someone was lurking. Dressed all in black with a ski mask.

Not the intruder who’d shot Joy, though. Wrong body type. This person was several inches shorter and far more slender. Gender was hard to tell from the camera angle.

He looked up to find Stone and Delores waiting for him to speak. “I need to get to Cora’s house. Someone’s trying to break in.”

Stone patted Delores’s back. “Let me up, babe. I’m going with him.”

Phin opened a text screen. “I need to text Molly. She’s on bodyguard duty tonight.”

Stone shoved his feet into his shoes and grabbed his keys. “I’ll start the car.”

“I was afraid of this,” Phin said as he sent his text. Molly replied right away that she’d seen the movement, too, and was on alert. “We’ve been searching her attic for two straight nights. Every fucking light on up there. We’re like a damn lighthouse.”

“Somebody knows you’re looking for something,” Delores said.

“Yes. And there are doors, windows, and a balcony on the attic level. At least they’ll have a hard time getting in now. Lock up behind me, D. SodaPop, let’s go.”

The Garden District, New Orleans, Louisiana

WEDNESDAY, DECEMBER 14, 11:00 P.M.

Molly is a badass. Molly is a badass.

Cora kept reciting the words in her mind, hoping to quell her anxiety enough to sleep.

She had managed to get a decent nap after the debriefing meeting at her kitchen table. Phin had started replacing the window locks on the second floor and she’d been able to hear him moving around as she’d lain in her bed. The sound of him working had been better than a lullaby. Before she’d known it, it was dark outside and Burke’s crew was up in the attic, looking for more clues her father might have left behind.

Most of Burke’s crew, anyway. She’d stumbled out of her room and had nearly tripped over Phin Bishop’s long legs. He’d been sitting against the opposite hall wall, his legs stretched straight out in front of him, the dragon book she’d read the night before in his hands.

He’d been “taking a break,” or so he’d said. And maybe he had been. But he’d also been watching over her.

Which was so incredibly sweet. She wished he’d stayed. He would have if she’d asked, but she hadn’t found the courage. She felt pathetic, needing him. But she did need him.

But he’d gone home, as had everyone else after searching the attic until ten o’clock. Everyone was gone except for Molly, who was on night duty.

Molly, who is a badass.

Molly, who can take care of anyone who tries to hurt me.

Because people were trying to get to her. Because her father had killed someone. Or maybe because he’d pissed off the wrong person by making a client disappear.

Because her father was a goddamned eraser.

The words caused the fury to bubble up inside her. She’d been on a low-level simmer since she’d left Alice VanPatten’s house.

Yes, Alice had needed help, but someone else should have been the eraser. Not an accountant with a wife and two little kids at home.

“What the hell, Dad?” she muttered. “What the actual hell?”

She rolled over and punched her pillow. And if her father were still alive, still here, she might be tempted to punch him, too.

How dare he do such a dangerous job? What if one of his clients’ tormentors had followed him home? What if they’d hurt her mother? Or John Robert?

Had Jack even considered that? Did he have even the least bit of worry for his own family while he was off being a fucking cowboy, helping other people?

She had to draw a deep breath, because her heart was pounding and she’d clenched her teeth so hard that her jaw ached.

If he hadn’t been in Idaho, Alice VanPatten might not be alive today.

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