I always felt like I was going crazy when I was with him. That’s how he made me feel—crazy. It was never him doing anything wrong; it was always me overreacting or being the jealous girlfriend. I hated feeling like that, feeling like I was just insecure, when the reality is he never did anything to make me feel differently.
Shaking off those thoughts, I go to the stove and lift the lid on the sauce for the chicken piccata I’m making for dinner.
“I think you should get a dog.” At that random statement from July, I turn and look over my shoulder.
“I’m not getting a dog.”
“Why not? You love animals, and this place needs another living being in it besides you.” She looks around. “Don’t you get lonely?” I want to tell her that I had never been really lonely before Maxim invaded my life, then left, but I don’t.
“I do not want the responsibility of a dog.”
“What about a cat, then? Yesterday, someone dropped off a cute little black kitten with green eyes. He’s really sweet.”
“No, no animals.” I shake my head and turn up the heat for the sauce, then check the potatoes that are now soft and ready to be drained and mashed.
“He’s healthy.” She keeps at it, which doesn’t surprise me. As a vet, she sees more than most and knows what can happen if you can’t find an animal a safe home.
“I want to travel. If I have an animal, I won’t be able to just get up and go whenever the mood strikes.”
“I’ll watch him for you,” Matt, the big softy, tells me as I grab a strainer for the potatoes. “I’m sure that Gus and Chuck wouldn’t mind some company every now and then.” He’s referring to his two miniature poodles who are going on about a hundred in dog years.
With a sigh, I look at my sister, then at Matt, and know that between the two of them, I’m going to end up the mother of a kitten by the end of the night. “I’ll think about it.”
“Awesome.” July smiles, and May giggles.
“Holy shit,” Kirk breathes, sounding distressed.
“What is it?” Matt asks him, going around the counter to stand behind him, then the color drains from his face as he looks over his shoulder at his phone in Kirk’s hand.
“What?” I look between the two of them, and the eyes look back at me are filled with concern.
“Charlotte was found murdered in one of her clients’ house this afternoon.” Kirk turns his phone around my way, and I read over the text he received. My heart starts to pound, and my palms start to sweat when I scan over the part that says cops on the scene mentioned that both her and Meghan’s murders were very similar.
“She was a realtor too?” July asks, having not read the text, and I nod. “Who would do that?”
“I don’t know.” Kirk shakes his head. “I know Meghan and Charlotte were friends. They hung out all the time.”
“You think they upset someone?” I ask, thinking killing someone is a little extreme.
“They could have,” Matt says as May comes around the counter and takes over what I was doing with the mashed potatoes. “I don’t know what is going on, but I do remember that not long ago there was that group of homeless people breaking into staged houses. And if a realtor came when they were there, they would attack them. One realtor ended up in a coma for a month after they beat him so badly.”
“I remember that,” I say, recalling how horrified I was at the time, worried, because if Harris was ever with me in that kind of situation, I don’t know that he would react very well.
“It could be something like that going on,” Matt agrees.
“Or it could be someone targeting women,” July says, and I look at my sister. “I hate to be the one to point that out, but I know you go into houses alone, so I think you need to think of the worst-case scenario. That way you are never caught off guard.”
“You’re right.” Matt adds, “Maybe you should hold off on showings until the cops have a better idea of what’s going on.”
“You know I can’t do that,” I point out the obvious, because like me, he knows that showings are how we make a large chunk of our money. “I’ll just change things up and arrive when my clients do, or I’ll wait in my car until they get there. I won’t go into any houses on my own.”
“And you know Kirk or I will be there at the drop of a hat if you ever need us.”
“I know,” I promise, letting out a deep breath and trying to wrap my mind around the fact that two women who I knew are now gone. And not just gone but brutally murdered and possibly by the same person. Worse, Meghan hasn’t even been laid to rest yet, since her family in Florida wanted her buried down there next to her dad who passed a few years back. Now, any acceptance or closure they’ve found is going to be erased when they hear about Charlotte.
“I hope they find out who’s responsible sooner rather than later,” Kirk says quietly, and all I can do is nod my agreement. A chill slides down my spine, and I try—really try—to remind myself that I am a strong woman who is capable of taking care of herself.
That said, I really, really wish Maxim was here.
Chapter 9
April
SITTING IN MY chair on my back deck with my laptop forgotten in front of me, I listen to the quiet of the early morning while watching two white butterflies dance in the forest beyond my back porch. I take a sip of coffee, hoping the caffeine kicks in soon, because as it stands, I’m exhausted.
Last night after everyone left, I took a shower, spoke to Maxim for about one-point-five seconds before he got called away, then got into bed, where I ended up tossing and turning for what felt like hours. I don’t know exactly what was keeping me up, but then again, it’s not like there isn’t a lot going on in my life all of a sudden.
I pick up my phone when it beeps and click on the text July sent, then close my eyes when I see the attached photo of an adorable little black kitty, his bright green eyes wide as he plays with a pink mouse toy. Shaking my head, I message her back.
Me: You win.
Less than a second later, she sends me a meme of a cute blonde jumping up and down, waving her hands in the air. With a laugh, I set my cell down, wondering if I’ve lost my mind. When my phone rings, I pick it up, expecting it to be my sister but smile when I see Harris is calling.
“Hey,” I answer, putting the call on speaker.
“A-re you picking me up?” I look at the time on the clock hanging on the wall and silently curse.
“Yes.” I quickly pick up my laptop and almost-empty coffee cup and take both inside. “I’m getting ready to leave my house now.” I put my computer in my bag, then place my mug in the sink to wash later.
“We’re going to be late.”
“We’re not going to be late,” I assure him, knowing that being off schedule is one thing he cannot stand. “I’m putting on my shoes right now.”
“No, you’re no-t,” he grumbles, and I laugh as I head down the steps to my front door, carrying my bag and said shoes in my hand.
“I am! I promise.” I slip on my shoes, then jingle my keys near the mouthpiece of my phone so he can hear. “I’m walking out the door. I’ll be at your house in fifteen minutes tops.”