Page 12 of Stay in Your Lane!

“Just coffee for me, thanks.” I slid my cup toward her.

Everett cheerfully said, “Same thing I always get.”

The waitress cracked a tired smile. “Mac-and-cheese bites with ranch, coffee, and a slice of apple pie with no ice cream?’

He nodded, and I had to admit… he was pretty cute when he smiled. I mean, he was cute anyway, but that smile did things to my head that I was too tired and distracted to dwell on.

When we were alone again, I said, “So, anyway—the scene.”

“Right!” He sat up. “What did you see that tipped you off?”

“Well, the pizza was weird.”

Everett furrowed his brow. “Why? I know people don’t like pineapple on pizza, but that doesn’t seem like a sign of a murder.”

I laughed, shaking my head. He was bizarrely observant and clueless at the same time, and I had to admit, it was kind of endearing. His earnestness made up for the rest of it. He reminded me a little of my brother’s black Lab—a bull-in-a-china-shop who was dumb as rocks most of the time but sweet as hell. And I didn’t think Everett was stupid—not when he’d also picked up the signs that the scene we’d been to wasnota suicide.

“No, I don’t mean the toppings,” I said, and then I explained what I’d observed.

He nodded along, eyes unfocused as he listened. When I was done, he exhaled. “Wow. Good catch.” He met my gaze. “Do youthink the smear of blood on the wall means anything? The cops tried to say it was from the EMTs.”

“That doesn’t make sense.” I played with the edge of my sleeve just to give my fingers something to do. “The only thing the EMTs would even have to do on a scene like that is declare the guy was dead. And they probably just had to walk in and go, ‘yep, that dude is dead,’ because I don’t think he needed anyone to check his pulse.”

“But they probably did anyway,” Everett countered. “In case they get grilled in court.”

“Hmm. Good point.” And it was—attorneys would tug on the most seemingly inconsequential thread if it might make the opposition’s case fall apart. “So let’s say they did walk in and take the guy’s pulse. They wouldn’t be all bloody like they would’ve if they’d been trying to save him.”

“Exactly!” He thumped the table with his finger. “So they couldn’t have left that smudge!” He sounded sure, and I agreed.

Though… “It’s stillpossible,” I said. “But the pizza is weird, and there’s also that shoeprint on his chest.”

“Right? And the way he was lying back… I mean, it kind of looked to me like someone shoved him off his feet, you know? So maybe they kicked him?”

“Or pinned him down.”

“Ooh, yeah. That could be it!”

“But either way, it’s fucking weird. Then when you mix that with the abandoned pizza, the smudge of blood…” I shook my head. “Something’s hinky.”

“It is,” Everett agreed with an emphatic nod. “So what do we do?”

I chewed the inside of my cheek and tapped my thumbs against my coffee cup. “I can talk to my dad. It wasn’t his case, but he can get access to the report.”

“Do you think he’ll do anything?”

“I think so? I don’t see why he wouldn’t.”

“Good. Glad you’ve got an in with the cops.” He gave a quiet, self-deprecating laugh. “They just think I’m the dumb guy who collects bodies.”

I kind of felt bad about that; no, he didn’t seem to the most book smart person I’d ever encountered, but there was clearly more going on in his mind than met the eye. That, and I knew from experience that cops, at least in this city, weren’t known for being subtle about things like that.

“They’re cops,” I said with a shrug. “I’ve spent my whole life around them—trust me when I say some of them didn’t exactly turn down Ivy League scholarships to join the force.”

Everett snorted. “You said it, not me.”

I just chuckled.

Right then, the waitress appeared with our order. Or, well, Everett’s. The mac-and-cheese bites looked surprisingly perfect, given the venue, and that steaming slice of apple pie made my mouth water.

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