Page 57 of Fluffed and Folded

“He’s not,” Gaines said, stepping into the room. He held a wicked-looking gun at his side, but he didn’t need it. Even with the affable smile, people tended to somehow understand that Gaines meant business. The friendly smile could go away, and then you’d be in trouble.

The play of emotions across Rogan’s face was almost comical: shock, anger, denial, sadness, and resignation. He was like a poster child for rapid grief. All that was missing was bargaining.

“Look, nobody has to know about this. We’ll sell the car and split it three ways,” Rogan said, gaze darting between them like a cornered bunny.

“I have three kids and a minivan and Tristan’s car was made during the Reagan era, and you’re trying to interest us in a track-only racecar? Know your audience, guy,” Gaines said, and cuffedRogan before he knew what was happening. “You want me to deliver this trash to the station for you?”

“Nah, I can do it, then I’ll type up my report,” Tristan said.

Gaines grinned at him and handed Rogan over. For his part, Gaines couldn’t care less if Tristan did a report or not. Tristan was that sort of person, the kind who kept a detailed typed report for every case. “Once a cop, always a cop,” Gaines said.

Tristan glanced down at the handcuffs, some intricate tech gear he’d never laid eyes on before. “Once a spy, always a spy,” he said. They bumped fists and “poof,” Gaines disappeared. Rogan stared blinking at the spot he’d been.

“Where’d he go?” he asked.

“Into the wind,” Tristan said. They each had their own strengths. Tristan was a good and meticulous investigator, hunting down leads with the tenacity of a honey badger. But, though he’d never admit it to anyone, not even Josie, sometimes he really envied his boss’s level of utter coolness. Which led him to his loose thread, the one that was driving him crazy. “You know, if you hadn’t gone after the girl, you probably would have gotten away with this.”

He watched Rogan closely and noted with a little bit of dread that his surprise and confusion seemed genuine. “What girl? There’s no girl. Asher didn’t have a girlfriend, and neither do I.”

Tristan faced forward without answering, a dark scowl on his face. If Rogan didn’t know about Darby, who threw the rock?

CHAPTER 31

“Let’s go back to the kitchen and grab something to eat,” Darby suggested, as soon as Tristan disappeared.

“We’ll order takeout, you can’t cook, in your condition,” Eli said.

“‘My condition’ makes it sound like some kind of Victorian disease that can’t be spoken in mixed company,” she said, nose wrinkled. “Besides, I’m not in the mood for takeout. I want real food.”

“But you shouldn’t cook. You’re recovering from major surgery.” Eli bit his lip, thinking. “I wonder if I could pick something up from my mom. She always has real food on hand.”

Darby laughed. “You’re only a pretend grownup, if your mom is still feeding you.”

“My mom warned me a girl would say that, to try and get me away from her. I’m going to text her, let her know she was right about everything.” He took out his phone and pretended to text.

Darby chuckled and tugged his sleeve. “Lucky for you, I also always have food on hand. I’ll pull something from the freezer.”

“At least let me heat it up for you,” he offered.

“Okay,” she readily agreed. In truth, she felt exhausted. Her body was nowhere near recovered from surgery, and it had beena long day. As comfortable as Eli’s uncle’s house was, she hadn’t slept well. Darby was a homebody, and all she wanted was to go home, especially after being in the hospital.

She sat at her kitchen table and motioned toward the freezer. “Why don’t you pick, there are a few things up there.”

Eli stuck his head in the freezer and whistled appreciatively. “Wow, this is a lot of food.”

“I know,” Darby groaned. “I guess I never acclimated to being single, after Ham. I kept cooking for two and socking everything away. I should toss it all.”

Eli made a pained sound. “No, that would be so wasteful. Think of all the starving people in our apartment building, like me.” He reached for a brown package marked “roast beef,” mouth already watering in anticipation. Roast beef was one of his favorite foods, and he only ate it when his mother took pity on him and made a Sunday dinner kind of meal.

Darby watched him shuffle her cupboards for an appropriate bowl to warm the food and felt a strange mix of peace and an unnamed ache. It was nice to have him in her kitchen, and she couldn’t discern if she was so lonely that it was nice to have anyone, or if it was specifically nice to have Eli. She thought maybe it was the latter, and that terrified her more than a little.

Ham had been a big presence. Loud and boisterous, he took up almost all the space and air in their house. Her life had revolved around him. At the time, she hadn’t known better, had believed that was the way marriage was, that women lived to serve at the whim of men. But Eli wasn’t like that. His presence didn’t crowd her out of the kitchen, and neither did it compel her to get up and serve him. He was justthere, so very there, filling the space with warmth and good cheer. It wascozyto have Eli near her, and she liked that coziness, so much that it made her blush when he tossed her a little smile.

“Hungry?” he asked.

“Ish,” she answered. “What happened to all the girls you were seeing?”

He froze a few beats before slowly beginning to stir again. “That makes me sound much more popular than reality. I had a few various dates. Most of them didn’t work out.”

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