Unconcerned with the cat’s opinion, the dog stretched out on the floor and watched Bree grab a bowl of pasta from the refrigerator. Standing in front of the sink, Bree ate a forkful of cold ziti. Nine months ago, eating cold leftovers alone would have been normal. But this morning, loneliness hit her hard. She’d learned to like coming home to a rowdy family dinner, with Luke shoveling an unbelievable amount of food into his mouth at a rate that gave Bree indigestion and Kayla telling terrible jokes and giggling so hard she could hardly eat.
The light turned on, and Dana stood in the doorway. An early riser, she was already dressed in shorts and a T-shirt. Her short gray-and-blonde-streaked hair was fashionably tousled compared to Bree’s typical working bun or day-off ponytail. Though she’d passed her fiftieth birthday, regular spin classes and good genes kept Dana long and lean. “Are you OK?”
“Yeah. It was so late, I stayed at Matt’s.”
“Good.” Dana walked into the kitchen. She took the bowl from Bree and waved her toward the table. “Sit. I’ll make you breakfast.”
“The pasta is fine.”
“Are you sure? I’m making french toast for Luke.” At Bree’s nod, Dana shrugged. “It should at least be warm.” She put the food in the microwave.
While the appliance hummed, Bree slid into a chair. She propped her elbows on the table and dropped her head into her hands.
A minute later, Dana set the bowl on the table in front of her. “Eat.” She chuckled. “And I have officially become my Italian grandmother.”
Bree lifted her head. The pasta smelled better warm, and Dana had topped it with fresh Parmesan.
Bree dug in. Footsteps thundered on the steps.
Luke loped through the kitchen. “Morning,” he said without pausing. The back door slammed as he went out to feed the horses.
“I take it he’s still annoyed with me?” Bree asked.
“Yep, but you did the right thing. A weekend camping trip with his friend’s college-age brother as the sole chaperone is a recipe for trouble.”
“I know. What I don’t understand is why I feel guilty.” Would Bree ever feel confident about her parenting skills?
“Why did you say no?”
“Because a twenty-two-year-old who we don’t know is not adequate supervision for a dozen teenage boys. Luke might make good decisions, but his friends might not. And there’s no guarantee even a good kid will make the right choice when faced with enormous peer pressure.”
Dana added, “How many accidents did you respond to in your patrol days involving teenagers and alcohol and/or drugs?”
“Too many.” Bree vividly remembered several. Photographing dead kids was almost as horrible as notifying their parents. “I know I had all the right reasons to tell Luke no. I still feel bad. I want to reward him for working hard and making good choices. Instead, I feel like I’m admitting I don’t trust him.” She held up a hand. “I know. This has nothing to do with trust. It’s about skills and maturity he and his friends don’t have yet, and it’s about the lack of control he’ll have in the situation.”
“He’ll get over it. Your job is to raise him, not be his friend. You’re going to make decisions that he doesn’t like.”
“You’re right.”
Dana grabbed eggs and milk from the fridge. “Are you sure you don’t want french toast?”
“I’m sure.” Bree ate a forkful of pasta.
Still wearing her pajamas, Kayla walked in and slid onto a chair. She wasn’t a morning person.
Bree rose and poured her a glass of orange juice. “How was school yesterday?”
“I made two new friends at lunch.” She smiled and took a sip of juice. She described the event in detail while Dana whipped up french toast. Kayla topped her slices with butter.
Bree looked down, surprised that her bowl was empty. Considering yesterday’s horrific discovery, she was equally surprised that her heart was full. Just a short time with her family brought her unexpected peace, a needed respite from the stress of her job. She used to be a complete loner, but she thought that was because she hadn’t known how nice it was to have people to share her life.
Now she did, and sometimes it still made her uncomfortable, as if she were somehow putting them out by allowing them to reciprocate in the relationship. But she couldn’t imagine living alone again.
Luke came through the back door, which slammed shut behind him.
“How are your classes?” Bree asked.
“I hate pre-cal.” He filled a glass with milk.
Dana slid a loaded plate in front of him. “Does anyone love pre-cal?”
Bree laughed. “I’m sure someone does.”
“That someone wasn’t me.” Dana sat down with her own plate.
“How about the rest of your classes?” Bree asked him.
“Fine.” He shrugged and shoveled food into his mouth without answering. Finally, he pushed his plate forward. “Johnny’s brother, Mateo, is very mature.”
“That’s great,” Bree said.
“So, can I go on the trip?” Luke asked, his chin lifted in defiance.
Bree sighed. “No.”
“You’re not being fair.” His voice turned sullen. “You haven’t even met him. Mateo wanted to come over last night, but you weren’t here because you were working. Whenever you have a big case, we barely see you.”
The comment stung. “I’m sure he’s a nice young man, but my answer is still no.” Bree kept her voice level and calm. Inside, her gut was twisting. “One college student isn’t enough supervision for twelve high schoolers.”
Luke didn’t speak again as he grabbed his backpack and headed out the back door. Bree took a deep breath and made a mental note to ask her brother, Adam, to spend some time with Luke. An artist, Adam was nervous about a new painting he’d delivered to the gallery. Time together would benefit them both.
“Luke’s being a jerk,” Kayla said.
Bree pressed her lips flat to suppress a grin. “Mind your own business. Luke will be fine.” She wished she actually felt the confidence she was projecting. “Someday, I might make a decision for you that you don’t like.”
“Well, I still won’t be a jerk to you,” Kayla said around a mouthful of food.
But Bree feared teenage Kayla wouldn’t be as amenable as grade-school Kayla. “I really hope that’s true.”
Dana started her fancy coffee machine.
Kayla carried her empty plate to the sink. “Can you drive me to school, Aunt Bree?”
Bree checked her watch. She wanted to get to the office early, but her niece loved having Bree’s attention all to herself now and then. For Kayla, Bree would wait. “Yes.”
“Yay!” Kayla raced from the table. Her feet thumped up the stairs.
Dana set two cups of cappuccino on the table. “Rough night?”
“Yeah.”
“I saw a news report about a shooting and assumed that’s what you were working on. Do you want to talk about it?”
Bree pushed away the empty bowl and reached for the mug with two hands. The kitchen wasn’t cold, but remembering the scene, she appreciated the warmth that seeped into her fingers through the ceramic. “Double homicide, execution style. One of the victims is Eugene Oscar.”
Dana’s mouth dropped open for a few seconds. “As in your former deputy Oscar?”
“Yep.”
“Fuuuuuuck.”
“Exactly.” Bree sipped the cappuccino. “We notified next of kin, so his identity will be on the news. I need to schedule a press conference for sometime today.”
“The reporter said there were two victims.”
“Oscar’s mother.” Bree sighed, then gave a brief description of the murders.
“When you suspended him, you strongly suspected he was involved in some shady business. I suspect you’ll find several people with motive.”
“The prosecutor decided not to charge him. The physical evidence just wasn’t there. My suspicions were irrelevant if I couldn’t prove the shadiness.”
Dana gave her a look. She had a long, distinguished career as a homicide detective. Her ability to slice through evidence to the heart of the matter made her a great sounding board.
“I know,” Bree agreed. “His death closely follows his forced retirement. Those two events could be related. Then again, he might also be involved in sketchy business unrelated to the sheriff’s department.”
Dana’s forehead wrinkled. “Too many possibilities this early in the investigation.”
“We have his electronics.” Bree’s mind whirled. “I’m hoping the techs find something on his computer or phone.”
Dana crossed her fingers in support. “Go get dressed. I’ll make more cappuccino.”
“I need a gallon.” Bree rose and set her bowl in the sink.