Page 5 of Let Sleeping Dogs Lie

“I’ll call Belinda. I should have taken your suggestion before.”

“Maggie…” he protested, but I gave him a quick kiss.

“You need to stay here and help Tilly. I’ll see you at the apartment.”

“Maggie. I’d rather take you home. I’ll come back.”

“No,” I said, “I need to do this on my own, Colt. I need to stop feeling like I’m being babysat twenty-four seven.”

“But you don’t have a car. We rode together in the van.”

“Like I said, I’ll call Belinda to pick me up. Or an Uber.” When I saw I wasn’t convincing him, I said with more heat than necessary, “I lived in New York City all by myself for ten years, for heaven’s sake. I’m perfectly capable of finding a ride in Franklin, Tennessee.”

Indecision wavered in his eyes, so I gave him another quick kiss. “I’m sorry. I love you, but I need to do this, Colt. I need to stop feeling helpless.”

He gave me a grim nod. “Okay.”

I turned to Tilly and gave her a hug. “I’m sorry, Tilly. Truly.”

“It’s not your fault,” she said, her voice breaking.

I nodded, even though I didn’t agree, and headed through the service hallway to the front door. I wasn’t going to have Belinda pick me up, but I sure was going to have her meet me somewhere that served alcohol. And plenty of it.

Chapter Three

Iwas sitting at the bar at the Embassy, waiting for Belinda to show up while I stared at the stage where I’d first sung with Colt. The night I’d stumbled upon my second dead body. Poor Walter Frey. I may not have pulled the trigger that time, but I’d killed him all the same—if he hadn’t agreed to meet me here, he might still be alive.

Maybe I needed to get the hell out of Franklin. Bad memories haunted me everywhere I looked.

Finishing off my drink, I thumped the glass onto the bar. “I have the worst damn luck in this town.”

“Are you sure it’s just the town?” Belinda asked as she sat on the stool next to me. “What are you drinking?”

“Long Island iced tea. Seemed better than doing straight shots.”

“So the objective is to getreallydrunk?” she asked in her sweet voice. If anyone else had spoken to me in that tone, I’d have suspected poison behind the honey, but Belinda was genuinely the sweetest person I knew. Life hadn’t been kind to her, and my asshole of a brother hadn’t been either, but she was a good, sweet person by nature, and that always shone through. So I accepted her and her overall goodness, and she acceptedme, ugly warts and all. Win-win. She and Roy were getting a divorce, thank God, but she’d assured me she would always be my sister.

I shrugged and flagged down the bartender.

“I’ll take another and whatever she’s having,” I said, gesturing to Belinda.

“Cosmo,” Belinda said, turning on her stool to get a good look at me as the bartender walked off to make our drinks. “How many have you had?”

“Two.”

Her voice rose in surprise. “Since you called me?”

“I’ve had a shitty year.”

She leaned her arm against the counter, saying sympathetically, “I know.” Glancing around, she said, “Where’s Colt?”

“I don’t need a babysitter, Belinda.”

“I never said you did. I was just asking.”

I frowned. “He’s working the Hawkins Financial corporate dinner with the Belles.”

“Then what are you doing here drinking? Did Tilly finally fire you?” she said with a laugh.

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