Page 27 of Crossing Lines

Major hissed softly, his eyes following Marnie as she exited to the lobby.

Major liked Jamison and didn’t like Marnie. Guess Sam knew which way the cat was casting his vote.

Chapter Eighteen

Jo drove home excited about the development with Kevin. She debated calling Sam, but he would be there soon, and she could tell him in person. She pulled into her driveway and turned to Lucy.

“We got good news about Kevin. Hopefully Bridget is doing good too.”

Jo was a little nervous about Bridget and how she was adjusting. She’d been quiet. Introspective. But she supposed that was to be expected.

Bridget opened the door and came out onto the porch. Lucy bounded over, and Bridget smiled—the first smile that didn’t seem laced with caution or bad memories that Jo had seen since she’d come home.

“She’s gorgeous.” Bridget looked up from petting the dog as Jo approached.

“And smart,” Jo said.

“I can tell.” Bridget straightened. “How was work?”

“Good.” She didn’t want to burden Bridget with tales of her visit to interview the serial killer or the fact he might kill again. Instead, she opted for the happy news. “My colleague that’s been in a coma might be waking up.”

“That’s great news.” Bridget moved aside so they could go into the cottage. She seemed more at ease here, not as jittery as last night.

A box lay tipped on the porch, soft blankets nestled inside. The cat dishes with food and water were beside it.

Bridget saw her looking. “I made a little bed for Pickles.”

“Pickles?”

Bridget laughed. “That’s what I think his name should be, but we can change it if you want. I’ve been trying to get him used to people. He came over to me earlier but ran off when the car pulled up.”

Lucy sniffed the cat box then flicked a disapproving glance at Jo. Maybe she had a bad impression of cats from her bouts with Major.

“The name Pickles is perfect. Sounds like he likes you. It took me weeks to get him to come over to me.”

Bridget smiled and opened the door. “Gives me something to do.”

“I hope you don’t mind, but my boss is coming over to pick Lucy up.”

Bridget raised a brow. “Sam?”

“Yeah, is that a problem?” Jo asked.

“Not at all. I’m curious to meet him. I can tell you really like working with him.”

“You can?” Jo didn’t realize she’d given off any vibes about that. Maybe it was obvious that the two of them had grown close.

“Yep. I hope you like meatloaf.”

“Huh?”

“I made dinner.”

“You did?” Jo turned toward the kitchen and caught the smells of baked potatoes and meatloaf. The table was set. The cottage was neat and tidy. Bridget had been busy. That was a good sign. “Smells delicious.”

“I hope it’s good. I cobbled together some stuff you had in the fridge. Remember when Mom used to make it?”

The memory pinched Jo’s heart. Those had been happy times. She had many memories of happy family meals, happy parents, and of course, her two sisters. It was just her and Bridget now, but they could still try to be happy. She stood beside Bridget and put her arms around her sister’s shoulders.

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