“Not that! You can’t take the Maggini. She’s all I have.”
“We’re just looking,” Kimble says. I hold my breath as she opens the case and runs her unworthy fingers across the instrument, feeling underneath for something, anything, that could pass as evidence. But of course she finds nothing, and I’m able to exhale again as soon as she puts the Maggini back in its case. But now, glancing around my room, I see they’ve half emptied it. Framed photos, journals, my laptop—they’ve all been dumped into Kimble’s bag. They even had the nerve to go through my trash. Rage rises up inside me.
“When will you give everything back?”
“As soon as we’ve cleared it all for any important evidence,” Officer Ladge replies. “We’ll supply you a temporary replacement laptop for your schoolwork, or anything else you need.” Again with that smug smile, as though I should be thanking him for ransacking my room.
“One last thing,” Detective Kimble adds. “The victim’s parents have, of course, seen the photos. They want to speak with you.”
My head jerks up.
“His parents? When?”
“Tomorrow. We’ve arranged a meeting for you after class.”
Chace takes hold of my hand as we step into Le Rocquefort, the restaurant his parents chose for our first meeting. It’s the kind of fancy-schmancy place my own mom and dad would be at home in, complete with white tablecloths, Christofle silver, and menus with no prices listed. I’m no stranger to this kind of scene. I spent the bulk of my childhood tagging along with my parents to upper-crust establishments, surrounded by people three times my age. But tonight is different.
After almost two months of dating—including one month Facebook-official—I’m meeting Congressman and Mrs. Porter, and I’ve never cared more to be liked. Making a good impression is easy; I can do that with my eyes closed. But being actually liked and embraced by his family? That’s a different story.
“There they are.” Chace gestures to a corner booth.
I smooth down the sides of my skirt as we approach, my heartbeat picking up speed. It took me forever to choose an outfit for tonight, but I finally settled on a Chanel shift dress, a birthday gift from Mom. Even fashion-clueless Nicole agreed it was perfect. She was practically giddy as she ushered me out the door, telling me how gorgeous I looked. Let’s hope the Porters will feel the same; that they’ll rave about me as soon as I leave the room, just like Chace’s teammates do.
“Mom, Dad!”
Chace hugs them both, granting me a split second to study the Porters before it’s my turn to be on display. The congressman is taller in person than he appears on TV, with salt-and-pepper-streaked hair and sharp features set off by blue-gray eyes just like his son’s. His voice is deep as he greets us, his presence powerful. Mrs. Porter, on the other hand, seems a bit…well, mousy, if I’m being honest. She’s pretty enough for her age, with glossy brown hair and a very Kate Middleton–style coatdress. But she hangs back from her husband, her voice timid. Let’s just say she’s the polar opposite of my mother—which means I’ll probably adore her.
“You guys, this is the girl I’ve been telling you about. Lana Rivera.”
I step forward with my most winning smile, extending a hand.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Congressman and Mrs. Porter.”
“And you as well.” Congressman Porter shakes my hand with vigor. “I work with your mother at the Capitol, so I’ve been hearing about ‘the beautiful Lana’ from more than just my son.”
A happy flush heats my cheeks. So far, so good.
The waiter hurries to our table to pull out our chairs and we take our seats, with me seated between the two Porter men.
“So, how did you two meet?” Mrs. Porter asks, as the busboy fills our water glasses.
Chace grins at me.
“Lana was the Good Samaritan who took pity on me my first day. She showed me the ins and outs of Oyster Bay, and after that I kept noticing her everywhere I looked. Everything seemed a little brighter when she was around.”
My stomach gives a thrilling swoop at his words. It feels like every day I’m discovering new things to love about him, including what a romantic he is for a guy our age.
“Isn’t that sweet?” Mrs. Porter turns to her husband with a smile.
“Very.” Congressman Porter eyes me over the top of his menu. “So, did you two know of your political connection when you first met?”
“That our parents work together, you mean? Yes, we knew. The real surprise was that it didn’t deter us,” I say with a laugh.
“And what does Congresswoman Rivera have to say about it?” he asks with a slight smirk.
“Um, she’s happy, of course.”
“Really?” His eyebrow arches.
I look from Chace to his father. Am I missing something here? Why does he look so smug when asking about my mom? But just then the waiter appears at my elbow.