“So, um, are you two like…?”
“Oh God no!” Lindsey flinched and I felt badly, like maybe I’d reacted too strongly to the question. “Don’t get me wrong, Holman’s great, but we’re more like brother and sister.” An awkward silence hung in the air for a moment. “Why do you ask?” I was pretty sure I knew why she was asking.
Two scarlet patches came into focus on her cheeks, confirming my suspicions. “I was just wondering, that’s all.”
“You like him!” I said, a smile spreading across my face. This was big news. Holman had been devastated when Rosalee, on whom he’d had a major crush, used him, literally, to try to get away with murder. I was giddy thinking about how flattered he’d be to know a woman like Lindsey Davis thought he was, um, sexy. (I had trouble using that word even in my own mind in relation to Holman.)
“Let’s just say that I’d be interested in getting to know him a little better.”
“We can definitely arrange that,” I said, waggling my eyebrows.
“Oh no.” She held up a finger at me. “No setups.”
“Not a setup exactly—we can just engineer a situation in which you are both in the same place at the same time.”
“That is the definition of a setup.” Lindsey gave me crocodile eyes that I imagined worked very well on uncooperative witnesses.
“Actually,” I said, a new thought rolling around in my mind. “I just found out about a New Year’s Eve party that a friend of a friend is having. Do you have plans?”
“Not unless you count a Gilmore Girls marathon as plans.”
“Perfect!” I said. “I’ll see if I can wrangle you an invite and one for Holman too. Trust me—it’ll be fun!” I didn’t dare mention that it was a themed party. I didn’t know Lindsey well enough to know her stance on costume parties. I was pretty sure Holman could be persuaded to play along, especially if it meant getting to spend the evening in the company of a smart, accomplished woman who just happened to think he was, um, sexy.
CHAPTER 5
I was wired after my meeting with Lindsey, as much about her interest in Holman as with the possibility of finding a connection between Flick’s and Granddaddy’s deaths, so Coltrane got an extra-long walk when I got home. Being a large, long-haired German shepherd, Coltrane did not mind the near-freezing temperatures half as much as I did. He trotted happily along the sidewalks in my neighborhood, ears up, tail aswish. Sometimes I imagined that Coltrane was the king of the four-block radius around my house, and our daily constitutionals were like visiting his royal subjects. Nice to see you again, Elm Tree. How’s it going today, Magnolia Bush? I shall pee on you now, Crabgrass.
“What’re you smiling about?” The voice came out of the darkness and made me jump about three feet in the air.
“Ryan, you scared me half to death!” I said once I’d caught my breath.
“Sorry.” He set down the bag of trash he’d been carrying to the curb and bent down to greet his canine soul mate. He then proceeded through several rounds of Who’s a good doggie?
“How’s the house?” I asked, finally interrupting the lovefest. “You guys getting settled?”
In a somewhat uncomfortable move, Ryan had recently purchased the house that backed up to mine. It was only uncomfortable because as recently as six months ago, Ryan declared his undying love for me, before mentioning Oh-yeah-I-got-another-girl-pregnant-and-she’s-moving-to-Tuttle-to-raise-the-baby-but-we’re-not-together-and-I-love-you-let’s-make-out. I declined his invitation for obvious reasons.
The pregnant girl in question was Ridley, and the three of us had mostly worked through whatever weirdness there had been between us. The fact is that I liked Ridley a lot. I liked Ryan a lot too, for that matter (when he wasn’t being a clueless idiot), and their baby Lizzie was just about the most adorable thing I’d ever seen, not to mention my goddaughter. After telling Ryan in no uncertain terms that we would never, ever, get back together, Ryan decided that he wanted to give things another try with Ridley. I wasn’t sure what exactly was going on with them lately. Mostly because I hadn’t asked.
“Yeah, it’s just been crazy.” Ryan stood up. He was wearing basketball shorts, an Adidas T-shirt, and flip-flops, and I could see his breath when he spoke. He had to be freezing. “Between the baby, buying the restaurant, and moving… we’ve hardly had a chance to catch our breath. But we love the house. It’s got a good soul, you know?”
Ryan beamed at me from under his thick lashes, and I was struck by how genuinely happy he seemed. It was hard to believe that this was the same Ryan Sanford whom I’d dated for seven years, and instead of proposing to me after college graduation as planned, took off to Colorado like a thief in the night without so much as a “See ya later.” So much had happened since Ryan had come back to Tuttle six months ago. He was now a father, a homeowner, a local business owner, and living with his beautiful, smart, practically-perfect-in-every-way Swedish baby mama. Whoever said life is what happens when you’re busy making other plans sure got it right. I don’t think anyone—including Ryan himself—could have predicted the direction his life had taken.
“I’ve been meaning to come over with a plate of something,” I said, suddenly realizing that I had yet to properly welcome Ryan and Ridley to the neighborhood. My mother would be horrified.
“Nah, don’t worry about it. You’ve had a lot going on. How’re you holding up?” He and Ridley had both come to Flick’s funeral, both given me extra tight hugs when it was over.
“I’m okay,” I said. “Busy with work, which is always a good distraction. And…” There was a part of me that wanted to tell Ryan about Tackett offering information on Granddaddy’s death. Ryan had been the only person in town who believed me that Granddad hadn’t committed suicide, who didn’t write me off as a grief-stricken young girl. There was a part of me that would always love him for that, but I knew that, if anything, Ryan and I needed to disengage rather than revisit the things that had held us together in the past. We were doing a pretty good job of learning to be friends, and I wanted to keep those boundaries firm. “Yeah…all good!”
He smiled at me. “Well, you look great.”
“Thanks.” I smiled back. “You too.”
Just before the moment got awkward, Coltrane whipped his head around, his ears shooting up into perfect triangles, his eyes opaque with purpose. He stared down the dark road and let out a low growl. As a former police dog, Coltrane never growled without reason. Both Ryan and I followed his gaze.
“What is it?” Ryan whispered, as if Coltrane might answer. “What do you see?”
I scanned the darkness but didn’t see anything unusual. To the left, the Dorseys’ three cars with West Virginia plates were parked in and around their driveway (probably family in town for the holiday). To the right, Gill Littrell was walking back up to his house after putting the trash out. And at the top of the street, a Prius was turning left at the stop sign. Nothing seemed out of place.
“It’s probably nothing,” I said, though not quite as sure as I sounded. I clipped Coltrane’s leash back on. “C’mon, buddy. Let’s go home.” But Coltrane wouldn’t budge. He crouched down on one leg, the way dogs do when they’re stalking something. He took a step forward and growled again, this time lower and longer.