Eighth Grave After Dark Page 7

I considered getting up for a look, but that’s as far as it went.

“Oh,” Amber said. “It’s just your stepmother.”

Just when my day was going so beautifully. At least my sister, Gemma, would be with her, the silver lining to that dark cloud. My stepmother had also been coming to check on me every day. The woman who’d never lifted a finger to help me in her life, who had so little interest in me, she never glanced in my direction unless I was bleeding profusely, was suddenly vying for Mother of the Year. Gemma begged me to be patient with her. Said she was lonely after my dad’s death. Said she wanted to make amends.

Maybe she did, but a lifetime of disdain was enough to drive anyone away. I had no interest in anything she had to offer, including an excuse for her behavior. She’d been trying to get me alone to talk to me, but I’d managed to dodge that bullet every time thus far. I just didn’t want to listen to anything she had to say.

“And someone else is here. A black SUV.”

I finally rolled off David Beckham to take a gander. “Special Agent Carson,” I said, a little surprised. I hadn’t seen her in months. We’d talked on the phone a few times and emailed quite a bit, but that was it.

“Oh, the FBI woman. She’s so cool,” Amber said, her voice forlorn. “I want to be in the FBI.”

“I thought you wanted to be a hairdresser,” Cookie said. “Or a brain surgeon.”

“I changed my mind. I want a job where I get to carry a gun.”

That was a scary thought. “Why?” I asked.

“Guys dig chicks with guns.”

“Excellent reason,” I said, giving her a high five.

Cookie shook her head.

“I’ll go see what’s up. Be back in a jiff.”

“Wait!” Cookie said, ducking out of Hildie’s grip. “I’ll go, too.” She unsnapped the cape and handed it to Hildie.

“Cook, no. It’s your wedding day, for goodness’ sake. And Hildie isn’t finished.”

“Kit might have a case for us. I need to be there to get the lowdown. Hildie can work on Amber.” She raised her brows at Hildie, waiting for confirmation.

Amber had decided she wanted her hair up, and Cookie was game, provided there was enough time to change the style. Apparently, there was time.

“Okay, but as much as I love your undergarments, you’re going to need pants.”

* * *

Cookie and I went downstairs in our robes and pajama bottoms, leaving Amber to be pampered and primped by Hildie. Artemis bounded down the stairs right behind us as we padded across the wood floor to the front door.

I opened it and welcomed Kit with open arms. Literally. She eyed me a long moment, then let me give her a hug, patting my back as though she didn’t know what else to do with her hands.

“You’re very … sparkly,” she said, her voice sounding a bit like she’d sucked helium from a balloon. Probably because I was crushing her larynx.

I didn’t hug halfway. If someone’s larynx wasn’t being crushed, I was doing it wrong.

“Am I interrupting something?”

I set her at arm’s length and took a moment to gaze at her. It made her even more uncomfortable. Score!

But, truth be told, she looked really nice. Her hair had been curled, her suit fit a little tighter than usual, and she was wearing makeup. Stranger things had happened, but not many.

“Not yet. We’re having a wedding, but not for a couple of hours.”

She gasped. “I’m so sorry. I should have called.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” I said, ushering her into the foyer along with another agent I’d never seen before.

Every move I made, every step I took, was fashioned with a singular focus in mind. I had to be careful not to look at Cookie. Her hair had been only partially teased, which meant it looked like a hairball with spikes on her head. I’d studied something similar in advanced biology in high school. Knowing a virus like that existed in the world had scared me, had given me nightmares. Or it might have if I’d cared. But I was in high school. All I cared about was boys.

Still, seeing it in person sent a tiny quiver of terror lacing down my spine. Terror that I’d burst out laughing and embarrass her. I had to force myself not to snort every time I looked her way. I had to focus. Concentrate. Channel my inner ninja. They had lots of focus.

“What’s up?” I asked Kit as I showed them to our makeshift living room.

I had a feeling the room had formerly been an area for silent reflection for the sisters. I could only hope God wouldn’t mind that we’d turned it into a place to entertain guests. On the plus side, we’d partied in it only once. Last night, actually. But I didn’t drink, so I was safe from any ramifications we might incur as a result of partying in a house of God. Cookie, on the other hand, was screwed six ways to Sunday. Poor kid.

“I have something I want you to look into,” Kit said. “But just so you know, Special Agent Waters was very against my coming here.”

I turned to the man trailing behind us. “You must be Special Agent Waters.”

“I am,” he said, his tone brusque. The energy radiating off him fairly vibrated. He was seething underneath his starched collar. So this would be fun.

All in all, he was very nice looking. Medium height. Slim build. Exotic coloring. His accent would suggest a local upbringing. I got the feeling that in his spare time he liked wearing feather boas and singing karaoke. But that could just be me projecting.

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