Page 69 of Call Back

“An old case of mine,” Brady said. “I’ll talk to you in the morning.”

“Hey, before you go,” Owen said. “About Magnolia . . .”

“No. I’m not having this conversation again. Good night.”

I hurried back into the bathroom, now facing a new dilemma—I was in desperate need of a shower, but there was no way I could sleep with Brady after that kiss with Colt. Not that I was about to let Colt know how I felt about him.

Also, there’d been something weird about Owen’s visit tonight, something that made me feel like Brady wasn’t totally being on the up and up either. Part of me wanted to leave, but how would I explain my sudden departure to Brady without looking suspicious? Where would I even go?

I would spend the night in the apartment, no matter how slimy I felt, but nothing more.

What on Earth was I going to tell him, though?

I locked the bathroom door, then quickly unbuttoned my shirt and dropped my pants. I had just gotten into the shower when I heard him banging on the bathroom door.

“Maggie?”

“I’ll be right out!”

I expected him to put up a protest, but I didn’t hear anything else as I quickly washed my hair and body. I realized my fatal mistake as I grabbed the towel and got out. I hadn’t brought any pajamas in with me.

But when I opened the bathroom door, Brady wasn’t in the bedroom, even though the covers were rumpled like he’d been in bed.

I quickly grabbed my most modest pair of pajamas—a pair of shorts and a loose shirt—put them on in the bathroom, then wandered out to the living room to find Brady.

He was standing in the kitchen with the envelope in his hand, looking at something printed on stiff, shiny paper. A photograph? When he noticed me, he quickly stuffed it back into the envelope. “Feel better?”

“Yeah. Sorry I locked the door. Habit.”

“But you live alone.”

“For one week. After ten years of roommates, it’s going to take longer than that.”

He walked over to me and leaned down to give me a kiss, but I turned my head, letting his lips brush my cheek.

“I have a terrible headache,” I lied. “I can see you’re engrossed in whatever Owen brought you, so why don’t I go to bed and let you keep working on it?”

“Are you sure?” he asked, not sounding convinced.

I glanced up at him, overwhelmed with guilt. “Yeah,” I said, glancing away. “Especially if it helps you find whoever killed Emily.”

He pulled me close, resting his chin on top of my head, and I resisted the urge to cry. I didn’t deserve someone like him. I didn’t deserve a normal, happy life, and thanks to my own fool heart, I was never, ever going to have it.

I pulled away and headed down the hall, too ashamed to speak, but I could feel his eyes on me. I stopped in the doorway and glanced back at his worried face.

“Do you want to take something?” he asked.

I gave a tiny shake of my head. “I already did. Good night, Brady.”

“Good night.”

As soon as I lay down in bed, my head started racing over the entire day, but I’d been up since the early hours of the morning, and exhaustion soon won over. Yet as I drifted off, I realized Brady had been up just as long.

What was in that envelope?

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