cute. Jonah hoped Adriana was happy. He hadn’t meant to affect her life to the degree that he had. He’d been so busy self-destructing he hadn’t worried about what the splatter might mean for those around him. And the way she’d always watched him, with those hungry eyes…. She’d thought she hid her feelings well. As far as anyone else was concerned, maybe that was true. But he could sense that she had a crush on him.
Would he have exploited her feelings if he hadn’t been drunk that night? He wanted to believe he wouldn’t have. But who could say? Maybe he really was that big an asshole.
Pulling his eyes away, he forced himself to stop looking at Francesca’s pictures. His past weighed heavily enough on him. Every month, when he wrote a check to the Williamses, he wished he’d been a better person. Not because he begrudged his daughter the money. Paying for items Burt and Sylvia might not be able to afford had been his idea, his way of trying to shoulder the responsibility for his choices. Although Summer’s adoptive parents had at first refused his help, they’d changed their minds once they realized he meant well and would keep his word not to interfere in their lives or try to contact her. So far he’d sent her to band camp, bought her a flute, covered some of her school clothes and paid the hospital bill when she broke her ankle in soccer. He guessed the Williamses pocketed the extra, because he’d sent a lot more than that, but he didn’t care. Every once in a while they rewarded him for his financial support by sending him photographs, copies of her report cards or a picture she’d drawn in school. And that meant a lot to him. He knew the money didn’t make up for what he’d done, but at least he was doing everything he could to compensate.
He wasted too much time mulling over his mistakes, wondering about Summer, how things might’ve been different with Francesca if he’d met her later in life, once he’d gotten his feet firmly underneath him again….
“I need some coffee.” Helping himself to the grounds stored in a kitchen cupboard, he started a pot. He was just getting out a frying pan to cook some eggs when his phone buzzed to tell him he’d received a text message. Hoping it was Investigator Finch or Hunsacker sending word that they had a break in the Dead Mule Canyon case, he pulled it from his pocket. But this text wasn’t about work. It came from Lori.
What a bastard you are! Why won’t you answer me?
Beyond tired, he rubbed a hand over his face. He needed to respond so she’d leave him alone. He understood that it was often difficult for same-sex couples to adopt, which was why she was trying to do it as a single person instead. But, either way, he couldn’t see how his reference would make any difference. It was just so typical of Lori to get some idea in her head she couldn’t shake. Because she worked for her family, she felt her father’s reference would be discounted due to bias and, since Jonah was essentially a cop, his word would make her look particularly appealing. If your ex-husband will recommend you, that’s saying something.
How she expected to continue keeping her lesbianism a secret from her parents once she adopted a baby and that child started growing up and telling everyone he or she had two “moms,” he didn’t know. Lori insisted the child would call Miranda by her first name. Jonah doubted that would work, but he’d already expressed his opinion and she wouldn’t listen to him.
There was no time to go into this again. A quick I’ll get it to you soon would have to suffice for now. He was too busy to mess with writing a letter he wasn’t convinced would have the slightest impact.
Good thing she didn’t know he was in Arizona. She lived in Mesa, which he’d passed through on his way to Chandler. She’d insist on seeing him and wouldn’t be happy when he refused.
The sound of a car door made him pause before he could finish typing in his reply. Someone had pulled into the driveway.
Slipping his phone in his pocket, he went to the window, where he could see the front grille of a blue van. He had his hand on the 9 mm in his shoulder holster when a woman came into view carrying two foam cups.
Not Butch. Adriana. She’d put on a little weight since that Christmas photograph had been taken, but there was no mistaking her identity.
Jonah wondered how she was going to feel about seeing him again and couldn’t imagine she’d be too pleased. But he had to intercept her or she’d wake Francesca.
“Why’d I have to come back to Arizona?” he grumbled, and met her at the door.
At first, she didn’t notice him. She was preoccupied with fixing the lid on one of the drinks she carried. But when she glanced up to reach for the door handle and found it already open, with him standing there, her jaw dropped and so did the hand holding the cups in their cardboard container. The whipped mochas she’d brought would’ve spilled all over the stoop if he hadn’t grabbed them.
“Jonah,” she breathed, and stepped back as if any kind of contact might burn her.
“Adriana.” He offered her a smile but his effort to be friendly did little to calm her.
She gave a shake of her head and self-consciously shoved the strands of hair that’d fallen from her messy ponytail back into place. Not only was she surprised, she didn’t like that he’d caught her at her worst. He knew because that was exactly how his sister would’ve reacted to the same situation.
“I—I didn’t realize Francesca had company. But that’s okay. I can come back later,” she said, and left the drinks behind as she fled to her van.
Jonah hadn’t meant to scare her off. But he let her go. Francesca needed to get some sleep. And he wasn’t eager to entertain Adriana on his own. He’d never expected to see her again. Francesca, either, for that matter.
Francesca could call her later, he decided. The fact that Adriana’s picture was on the mantel and she could walk up to the house as casually as she had indicated the two were still friends. No thanks to him, of course. But that gave him one less thing to feel guilty about.
His phone vibrated with another text message. “Damn it, Lori. When you ask someone for a favor, you’re not allowed to be so demanding.”
He went inside to put down the cups so he could check his phone, but this time it wasn’t Lori. It was Investigator Finch.
If you’re up, call me.
Going into the laundry room, he closed the door so the sound of his voice wouldn’t carry to the bedroom and dialed Finch’s cell.
It rang twice before transferring to voice mail.
Jonah didn’t leave a message. He was about to redial when the lingerie on a small rack above the dryer caught his eye. A see-through lacy black bra and matching thong hung inches from his face. They had to belong to Francesca. But who was she wearing underwear like that for? The man in the D.C. photograph?
The ringing of his phone dragged his attention away from the underwear. It was Finch. “What’s up?”
“We’ve got a body on our hands. A real one this time.”
He gripped the phone tighter. “What did you say?”
“You heard me. Call came in less than five minutes ago. The owner of Skull Valley Chocolate and Handmade Gifts found a corpse slumped against her door when she arrived for work.”
“No one else spotted it?”
“This isn’t your usual downtown. It’s basically four corners with
