62. SARA

I drop my knife and fork to my empty plate with a faint clank and push my chair back from our table. The Rest-All motel may be shit, but the breakfast here at the attached diner is incredible.

“God, I needed that,” I say with a sigh that turns into a belch.

Chance cocks an eyebrow at me. I smile sweetly.

“You put a ring on it, baby,” I coo. “It’s all yours.”

He pops his last scrap of toast into his grinning yap and chews.

“We definitely worked up an appetite last night,” he says. “I’m surprised none of the other guests called the manager on us.”

I glance around at the rest of the diner’s clientele. Most of them look like fifty bucks a night is stretching their budget to the limit. More than a few look like they’ve been rode hard and put away wet.

“I have a feeling they’ve got other things to worry about.”

Chance chugs down the rest of his coffee. “What time are you meeting your sister at the farmer’s market?”

“In about an hour,” I say, glancing at the clock on my new phone.

“You remember the drill?”

“Yes,” I sigh. “Wear sunglasses, watch my six, keep to crowded areas, bolt into the crowd if I see trouble.”

He gives me a sheepish look.

“Like I said last night, I need to know you’re safe.”

“I know,” I grin. “And I love you for it.”

Suddenly we both freeze. My heart feels like it’s waiting for something before it beats again. I can feel the blood rushing into my cheeks.

“I mean,” I sputter. “You know, just that –”

“I know what you mean,” he says, taking my hand. “I love you, too.”

Okay. Now it’s out there. We said those words to each other all the time as kids, but we’ve both been avoiding it since all this craziness started.

We stare at each other anxiously for several long moments. Sara’s the one who finally breaks the silence.

“That’s a good thing, right?” I ask tentatively. “For a husband and wife to love each other?”

“It’s the best thing. It’s the only thing.”

We sit there holding hands, stroking each other’s fingers with our thumbs like shy teens on a first date.

“You know,” I say. “I’ve still got a whole hour before I have to meet Grace…”

He pulls me out of the chair and tosses a fifty on the table. In a few seconds we’re taking the stairs to our room two at a time.

So much for the shy part.

* * *

I sidle up to Grace by a booth where a long-haired man in his sixties is selling shirts made out of hemp for a hundred bucks apiece. For that price, he better be making them by hand.

Says the wife of a man who drives a Bugatti and flies her to Bora Bora on a private jet. Then again, I drive a fifteen-year-old Camry right now, but we’ll address that as soon as all this craziness ends.

Assuming all this craziness ever does end.

“Don’t react,” I whisper from behind her. She flinches, but doesn’t turn around. “We’re just two old friends who haven’t seen each other in a few months.”

She plays her part well, turning and giving me a mild “Hey!” and a half-hearted hug.

“If I’d known you were such a good actress, I would have taken you into the field with me on cases,” I say, smiling.

“This is seriously fucked up,” she says with a smile of her own. “I sure hope you know what you’re doing.”

“Me, too.”

We leave the hemp shirt emporium behind and stroll down a concourse lined with everything from late-season corn and healing crystals to Indian food and mini-donuts.

“How do I look as a blonde?”

“Like someone on the run,” she says. “Sara, what’s going on?”

I give her more details on why we’re hiding out and my meeting-slash-rumble with Pearce and his friends last night.

“Holy shit,” she breathes. “That’s insane.”

“Tell me about it. How are things at the office?”

“The Steins are asking if we have anything new on their daughter, but for the most part it’s been quiet.”

Shit. I was following up leads on Ashley Stein when I got that first call from Pearce. God, it feels like a year ago now. I can’t believe it hasn’t even been a month.

“Tell them how sorry we are, and that they’re the top priority once I get back to work.”

“So you are coming back to work?” she asks.

“Of course. Why would you wonder?”

She shrugs. “You get married without telling me, take off for days to the other side of the world, go underground. How am I supposed to know what’s going on in your head?”

I sigh and wrap an arm around her shoulders.

“Not being the best big sister right now, am I?” I whisper. “I’m sorry about all this, Gracie.”

“I don’t think it’s you who should be sorry,” she says.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean Chance seems to be the common denominator here. He’s the reason you’re getting caught up in all this craziness.”

I stop her with a hand on her arm. “That’s not fair. He’s just trying to save his company, not to mention his freedom and reputation.”

“Are you sure there’s nothing else going on?” she asks as we find a bench in the shade of a boulevard tree and take a seat.

“What are you getting at? Spit it out.”

“Look,” she says. “I’m just saying Tre has a different story. If he really believed Chance was innocent in all this, why is he switching allegiances to Quentin Pearce?”

That question has been in the back of my mind since Grace first told me about it. I can’t believe Tre would betray his best friend like that, after all they’ve been through together. And I haven’t told Chance about it, because I know it would crush him.

“Maybe you should ask Tre that, not me,” I snap. “I thought I knew him. Guess I was wrong.”

Grace scowls. “He’s still the same guy he always was. He told me he wishes you’d never gotten caught up in this stuff, and he really thought it was crazy for Chance to propose to you like he did. To be honest, so did I.”

“Look,” I say. “You’re just going to have to trust that we know what we’re doing. Is that too much to ask?”

She thinks it over for a few moments before nodding.

“All right,” she says. “I’ll do that for you, if you do something for me.”

“Fine.”

“Just think it over. Isn’t it possible that there’s something to what Tre said? I mean, you know him. He’s not the kind of person to switch sides for no reason, especially against his best friend. Maybe you need to ask yourself how much you really know about Chance and his past.”

I want to dismiss all this as just more of Grace’s nonsense. She’s always lived in a fantasy world – I was the one who kept our father from going after her and took the beatings myself. I shielded her from the worst of Mom’s illness. Hell, I gave her a job and let her live in my apartment! She has no idea how the real world works!

But do I really believe that? Or am I willfully ignoring some of the things I already know about Chance?

“Sara?” she says with a wince. “Are you mad at me?”

“No,” I say. “Not at you. Look, I’ll think over what you’ve said as long as you agree to keep an open mind about Chance. I mean, he is your brother-in-law.”

“For now, anyway,” she says glumly.