Page 11 of Buried Too Deep

“Nobody believes it was you,” Stone said.

But Burke had. For just a moment, he had.

“I still want to make this right. If I’d been there, I would have stopped that bastard from hurting Joy.”

Stone sighed. “I’m not going to be able to talk sense into you, am I?”

“Nope.”

Delores folded her arms across her chest, sending another glare in Burke’s direction. “Then we’ll help you. We’ll stay with you until you’ve made this right.”

Phin blinked. “You don’t have to do that.”

“Neither do you,” Delores said, lifting her chin.

Stone’s lips twitched. “You’re not going to be able to talk sense into her, either. Come on. Let’s make nice with Antoine and your boss. Delores, try to look like you don’t want to rip them apart.”

“I’m not that good an actress,” Delores snarked, but schooled her features into a polite mask.

Together, the three of them—and SodaPop—approached Burke and Antoine.

Antoine was the first to smile. “Phin, my man. It’s good to see you. We’ve missed you.”

Phin gave Antoine a one-armed hug. Another army vet, Antoine had been the one to get Phin his job at Burke’s two years before. Antoine and Stone went way back, and all it had taken was a single phone call from Stone and Phin had a new start in New Orleans.

Phin owed his work family a lot. He was going to make this right. “Burke, it’s okay.”

Burke’s eyes were filled with sorrow. “No, it’s not. I’m sorry, Phin.”

“Phin’s going to try to find Joy’s attacker on his own,” Delores snapped. “Because he thinks you don’t trust him.”

Burke’s and Antoine’s eyes widened, and Phin sighed. “Thanks, Delores.”

“You will not go after that bastard,” Burke snapped back. “He’s dangerous.”

Phin got that. He could still feel Joy’s blood dripping from his hands. “I know. But I owe it to Joy.”

“Let’s discuss this elsewhere,” Antoine said reasonably. “Because I’m thinking the cops don’t need to be hearing any of this.”

It was true. Phin wasn’t sure what he’d been thinking, speaking his thoughts aloud in a police station. “That’s fine. Can I bring SodaPop?”

Burke nodded, his shoulders sagging a little in what seemed like relief. “Absolutely. She’s your service dog. She goes where you go. Come on.”

They’d turned for the exit when something caught Phin’s eye. A woman was walking past them, her expression angry, her curly red hair bouncing with each step. The elderly man at her side wore a snazzy suit and a weary expression as he tried to keep pace with her.

The two strode to the glass door ahead of them and the woman shoved it open, taking to the street at a fast walk, the man now jogging to keep up with her. She had a gray cloak draped over her arm. His gaze slid down her body to calves that were familiar. And then Phin noticed her feet—with their gray, three-inch heels.

“That’s her,” Phin said, running for the door, SodaPop trotting along beside him.

“Who?” Delores demanded from behind him.

“The woman from this morning. The woman who ran away.”

Phin wasn’t letting her run away again.

2

Metairie, New Orleans, Louisiana

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