Page 211 of Buried Too Deep

Phin gaped at him. “You’d never driven one of these things before? But you said you could.”

“I said I could. I never said I had. Come on, Phineas. Time to get up.” Stone offered a hand to Phin, who was lying on the RV’s sofa.

Not having to sit up in a car for fifteen hours had been a relief to his throbbing arm, even though Phin hadn’t wanted to even guess how much gasoline had cost for the trip. Burke had told him not to worry about it, that the firm had it covered. That he’d fly up himself after the holidays and drive them back, since Stone and Delores had a life—and a dog shelter—to return to.

Had Phin known that Stone had no experience driving a full-sized RV, he wouldn’t have slept nearly so peacefully the past fifteen hours.

But they were here, and Stone hadn’t wrecked their borrowed vehicle.

He gripped Stone’s hand, wincing as he came to his feet, aware of Cora hovering in the background. Like she’d catch him if he fell.

Knowing Cora, she probably could. Wasn’t much the woman couldn’t do.

His family was going to love her.

Phin glanced out the RV window at his parents’ house, surprised that no one waited on the front porch. But it was cold. Maybe they were all inside drinking hot cocoa. That had always been one of their Christmas morning traditions.

Or maybe they’d all fled, not wanting him to come home after all.

Cora lightly smacked his ass. “Stop thinking negative thoughts. It’s all over your face. It’s going to be fine.”

“Fine,” Delores repeated, but her tone was less sure. She was concerned that the family would be angry that they’d kept Phin’s secret for two whole years.

Phin would take the blame. Delores had no family and he’d be damned if she was going to miss out on his.

“Out we go.” Stone helped him down the stairs, forgoing the wheelchair that they’d brought just in case.

Phin was going to walk up to his parents’ front door on his own two feet.

“You’re ridiculous,” Cora muttered, pushing the empty wheelchair that had been a source of disagreement every time they’d stopped.

“You’re pretty,” he replied, earning him Cora’s narrow-eyed glare.

“Don’t think you can distract me.”

Phin pointed to the front window of the house. “Oh, look. The Christmas tree!”

“Ooh.” Cora sucked in a breath. “I know what you did there, but the tree’s still pretty.”

Too soon they were at the front door, Stone and Delores stepping back behind them. Cora parked the wheelchair on the front porch, then took Phin’s hand. He touched the top of SodaPop’s head.

I’ve got this. It’s going to be wonderful.

He knocked, then twisted the doorknob, unsurprised when it opened. For a cop’s family, the Bishops were remarkably lackadaisical about locking their front door.

“Um…hello?” Phin called when no one came forward to meet them.

“In the kitchen! Come on back.”

Phin’s throat closed at the sound of his mother’s voice. Slowly, he and his small entourage made their way to the back of the house, where something smelled amazing.

Cinnamon rolls. Another Bishop tradition. His mother would have been up at dawn prepping the dough to rise.

His mother stood at the stove, stirring something in a pot. An enormous turkey sat in the roasting pan, a bowl of stuffing next to it.

Scarlett sat at the kitchen table, feeding a beautiful toddler sitting in a highchair. Other than the two women and the baby, the room was empty.

Jackie Bishop looked up and smiled. “Phineas. You made it.”

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