Page 36 of One Last Promise

“Because of the show?” Tillie said. “I saw a couple of the episodes. They even had a scene at the diner. . . .” Her eyes widened. “That’s it. That’s how Rigger found me.”

“Wait—what?”

“They caught me on screen, just in the background of the Skyport Diner. Maybe they didn’t even realize it—after all, I didn’t sign a release. But I saw it, and it was so brief I didn’t think anything of it. But with all the play the show has gotten . . .” She sank onto the stool. “It kept bugging me. I left no trail, or at least I thought so. And Roz wouldn’t betray me, so . . .”

“Theshowcaused this?”That stupid show?—

She held up her hand. “I don’t know. I mean . . . but . . .”

He shook his head. “Worst idea I ever had.”

“It helped catch a killer,” Axel said, pulling plates from the cupboard. “If Flynn hadn’t seen the show, she wouldn’t have followed up on the Midnight Sun Killer, and he’d still be out there.” Axel set the plates on the island. “I’ll grab the steaks.”

“I’m sorry I got you into this,” Tillie said quietly, sitting on the stool.

“I think I got you into this,” Moose said, his gut tight. “But I’m not exactly sure whatthisis.” He didn’t want to ask, but . . . “Whois Rigger, really?”

A beat, and she sighed, then nodded. “He’s?—”

“Mommy?”

The voice jolted through him, sweet and high. He turned, looked up.

Tillie’s little girl stood on the bridge that overlooked the great room, her dark hair wet and in tangles, plastered to her head. She wore pink sweatpants and a misshapen shirt with a Disney princess on the front.

“Hazel.” Tillie slid off the stool. “Come downstairs, and I’ll brush your hair.”

“I can do it.”

Tillie held up a hand. “Of course. Do you want something to eat?”

Hazel nodded.

Tillie looked at Moose. “I don’t suppose you have anything besides steak and salad?”

“Axel keeps a supply of junk food in the pantry,” he said and got up. “He’s thirteen years old on the inside.” Indeed, he found a box of macaroni and cheese and brought it out.

“A thirteen-year-old who makes killer macaroni and cheese,” Axel said, setting the plate of steaks on the counter. “Give me that.” He looked at Hazel, who’d come downstairs. “Hey, kiddo. Do you like tuna?”

She nodded.

“One tuna mac coming right up.” Axel grabbed a pot from the drawer next to the stove, twirled it by the handle, then filled it up with water.

The ham.

Hazel climbed up on a stool, her little legs dangling, her feet bare.

The temps were dropping into the low fifties at night.

Moose got up and headed to his fireplace, opened the screen and grabbed wood from the racknext to the hearth.

Yes, he was procrastinating because . . .

Because if Rigger was Hazel’s father, that meant . . . what? He was Tillie’s ex too?

Nope, not going there. He stacked a couple logs, added kindling and some crumpled paper, then stood and grabbed the container of fireplace matches.

“That’s a long match.”

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