“Um, sure. Okay.”

“I’ll get those muffins ready for you to take. Kayla really wants you to have them.”

KAYLA SHOWED UP shortly after that. Her grandma didn’t say anything, but showed by her mood and her actions that we were good, and Kayla relaxed. We talked about her homework and ate a couple of the muffins, and for the first time that day, I forgot about Michael.

It was nice that Paula thought I made a good role model for Kayla, but I couldn’t help wishing I could do more. Kayla was a bright kid. She deserved to go to college. I thought about my trust fund. Was there away to help her without insulting Paula? I’d have to think about that, ask Paige for some ideas.

I had the money. I didn’t need all of it. Maybe this was something I could do with the extra. Something good.

twenty-six

I was walking away from the house when my phone started playing “Light My Fire.” I grabbed it so fast I nearly sent it flipping onto the sidewalk. Then I took a deep breath and answered.

“Hey,” I said.

“Hey yourself,” Adam said. “It’s 12:01 and I missed my morning update.”

I clutched the phone tighter and didn’t answer.

“Savannah?”

“Can—Can I call you back?”

“What’s wrong?”

I considered going to the motel and phoning him back. That’s where I wanted to be when I told him, curled up in a chair, imagining him there, listening. But I couldn’t wait that long. I’d been holding back the dam all morning. So I stopped walking and said, “There’s been a murder.”

“Shit. Another girl?”

“No ... Michael.”

Silence.

“Michael Kennedy,” I said. “Claire Kennedy’s brother. The Dallas detective—”

“I know who you mean. He’s dead?”

I told him what happened.

“So—Wait—You—” He stopped and took a deep breath. “Okay, let me see if I understand. Michael Kennedy called you last night and asked for your help. You went out, found his body, and were accused of his murder. And I’m just finding this out now?”

“I wanted to handle it myself.”

“A guy you were working with died. You found his body. I don’t care if you can handle it yourself. You shouldn’t—Damn it. Hold on.” A rustle as the phone moved. When a fire half-demon gets mad, things get a little warm, including whatever he happens to be holding at the time. Adam goes through a cell phone a year, usually shorting them out when I’m on the other end.

I resumed walking and forced a light tone. “I keep telling you, you need travel-sized oven mitts.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he muttered. Another rustle as he wrapped something around the phone.

“That’s what I’ll get you for your birthday,” I said. “Not a new top for your Jeep—”

“Don’t change the subject,” Adam said. “I’m serious, Savannah. You should have called.” He took a deep breath and exhaled. “So how are you making out? No, stupid question. You’re not okay, but you sure as hell aren’t going to admit it. Where are you? No, that’s another stupid question, isn’t it? You’re working. Haven’t slept. Haven’t eaten—”

“I ate.”

“Nothing good, I’m sure. Stop walking, okay?”

I didn’t ask how he knew I was on the move.

“Turn toward your motel,” he said. “Then start walking again.”

“I don’t need—”

“Yes, you do. Michael Kennedy is dead. Possibly murdered by the same killer you’re tracking right now. You’re running on fumes and you’re going to screw up. You’ll miss something. Or worse, you’ll let your guard down. So get your ass back to that motel and sleep.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I’m serious, Savannah. Don’t pull this shit. Not with me.”

“I’m not, okay? You’re right. I’m walking back to my motel. You can call my room in ten minutes and I’ll be there.”

“You’d better.”

“I will.”

WHEN I GOT to the motel, Jesse’s truck was parked out front. I’d given him a key, so I rapped first. Inside, I could hear him talking on the phone.

“Right.” Pause. “Right.”

I used my key and quietly opened the door.

“She’s here now. Do you want to—?” Pause. “Okay.” Pause. “Bye.”

Jesse hung up. “That was Adam wondering why I didn’t call him about Detective Kennedy. I told him you could handle it, which seemed to be the wrong answer.”

I tossed my bag onto the bed. “I should have let him know.”

“I thought he wasn’t supervising you.”

“He’s not. He just thinks I could have used a friend last night.”

Jesse nodded, but I could tell he wasn’t so sure that was why Adam was upset. Seeing his doubts made me wonder myself. Was I really in charge of this case? Or was Adam humoring me? No, he wouldn’t do that. Not Adam.

A rap at the door. I glanced out the window to see the woman from the coffee shop, holding a bag.

“I didn’t think anyplace around here delivered,” Jesse said.

“No, but Adam does.” I opened the door and stood in the gap. If she thought my boyfriend was sending me food, seeing Jesse in my room would not help my reputation around town.

“Special delivery?” I said.

She smiled. “Soup and a sandwich. He said to eat it, then get some sleep. That’s an order.”

Usually, I would have laughed at that. But I could feel the weight of Jesse’s gaze on my back, and it didn’t seem as funny.

I took the bag. When I closed the door, I waited for Jesse to say something. He didn’t. He wasn’t that kind of guy. But I saw the scenario through his eyes, and what would have been a sweet gesture seemed a little condescending, like I couldn’t be trusted to take care of myself.

“That was nice of Adam,” Jesse said finally.

There was no sarcasm in his voice, but my already tender stomach gave an extra twist.

“I’m not really hungry,” I said. “Do you want it?”