Stanley was right. If she figured out why this was happening, it would point to the who. After all, her prints hadn’t gotten to Stark’s on their own.
Her cell went off; it was Robby. “Is Mom okay?” she answered.
“She’s good. She’s asking for you, I just wondered—”
“I’m almost there. I had a meeting in Baton Rouge, and thought I’d swing by to say goodnight before I headed home.”
“You’ve got a long drive, sis, I can just hand her the phone—”
“No, I want to do this. I want her to know she can count on me.” Miranda paused and took a breath. “And I want you to know you can count on me, too.”
Twenty minutes later, she sat beside her mother’s bed, eating the Subway sandwich she’d picked up on her way in. Robby’s wife and five-year-old daughter were visiting and she met the two for the first time.
Anna, his wife, was both lovely and gracious, giving Miranda a genuine-looking smile and a big hug. Little Chrissy was shy, so Miranda squatted down to introduce herself.
“I’m your Auntie Miranda, and I’m very happy to meet you.”
She got a ghost of a smile in return and Miranda looked up at her brother. He had tears in his eyes and she felt as if her heart might explode with happiness.
Funny, but she’d never contemplated how their dysfunctional family affected her brothers. She’d always thought of them as part of the problem, not fellow casualties. And she’d certainly never considered that either of them would miss her or long to have her in their life.
She saw now how wrong she had been.
A short while later, after she said her good-byes, Robby offered to walk her to her car.
They stepped off the elevator and into the lobby before he spoke. “What’s going on, Miranda?”
“What do you mean?”
“Remember my buddy Nate from high school?”
She nodded. He lived in Harmony and worked for the district attorney’s office. “I saw him just the other day. Why?”
“He called me today. He said he’d heard you’re in some sort of trouble. And that you were suspended from the force. Is it true?”
The small-town network never failed to shock and awe.
Miranda let out a resigned breath. “I wasn’t going to tell you. I figured you have enough to worry about. Yeah, it’s true, and that’s why I was in Baton Rouge. I was meeting with a defense attorney.”
He stopped. Dragged a hand through his hair. “It’s that bad?”
“It’s all a mistake, suspicion based on a bucketful of circumstantial evidence. The lawyer said I don’t need to worry.”
Not the whole truth, but close enough.
“If you need anything, come to me. Character reference, bail, a file in a cake…”
She laughed, the sound tight. “I appreciate it, Robby. But I’m innocent so there’s no way I’ll be charged. No way.”
They reached her car and stopped. He turned and looked her in the eyes. “I want you to know … I messed up last time, but I won’t this time. I’m with you, Randi, one hundred percent. Anything you need, I’m here for you.”
*
By the time Miranda got home, it was fully dark and the promised cold front had moved through. She pulled into her drive but didn’t make a move to cut the engine. Her house was dark and she knew it’d be cold.
She didn’t want to go in.
She didn’t want to be alone.
Summer, Miranda thought. She wanted to check in on her, and even if she was too busy to talk, there’d be people and lights and conversations. And a cocktail or two tonight wouldn’t be a bad thing.
Miranda shifted into reverse and backed out of the drive, heading toward the Toasted Cat. The bar was busy, but Summer looked up as she entered and greeted her with a smile. Miranda’s spirits sank anyway—her friend didn’t look good. It wasn’t just her smile that was off, but her color as well. And the lines around her eyes and lips seemed more deeply etched than just the day before.
Miranda found an empty seat at the bar. It took Summer a minute to make her way over. “Hey, girlfriend,” she said. “How’re you tonight?”
“Hanging in there. How about you?”
Summer cocked an eyebrow in question. “About the same as you. What’re you drinking tonight?”
“How about a cosmo?”
The eyebrow went up again. “Are we celebrating?”
Miranda thought of her mother and brother, of meeting his wife and the niece she hadn’t realized she had. “Yeah,” she said. “As crazy as that is considering the mess of my professional life, we’re celebrating.”
Summer brought her the cosmo, then had to move on. Miranda didn’t mind being alone, and sipped her drink, letting the activity swirl around her.
The alcohol in the first drink caused just enough of a buzz for her to order a second. She made small talk with a Harmony old-timer, then fended off an octopus attempting to make a love connection.
Business finally slowed enough that Summer could stop and visit. She brought along another drink. Miranda eyed it. “You driving me home?”
“That could happen. Or we’ll call an Uber.”
“I can live with that.” She exchanged her empty glass for the full one. “How are you feeling? You don’t look so good.”
Summer snorted. “Well, thank you very much. You don’t look so good yourself.”
“We agree on that.” She lifted her glass. “So, how are you?”
“I’m feeling all right. No spells recently. That’s a good thing. What about you?” She motioned to the cosmos. “Last we talked, things weren’t so rosy.”
“They still aren’t.”
“But?”
“I went to see my mom in the hospital. And we talked. It was … good. Really good.”
Summer leaned her chin on her fist. “Well, that’s something I never thought I’d hear you say.”
“I know, right? Me either.”
Summer leaned forward, lowered her voice. “I heard some things today.”
“About?” she asked, though she had a pretty good idea what her friend was about to say.
“Clint Wheeler. Somebody killed him.”
Miranda realized she hadn’t spoken to Summer since before Wheeler’s death.
“I found him. Called it in.”
“I heard that, too. Why didn’t you tell me?”
The hurt in Summer’s voice surprised her. “I didn’t want to bother you with my problems. I wanted to come see you, but figured the last thing you needed was me whining to you.”
“We’re friends.” Her cheeks turned red. “It’s not whining when it’s between friends.”
Miranda was taken aback. “I’m so … sorry. I don’t know what else to say.”
Summer shook her head. “No, I’m sorry. I’m a little on edge. You were right—I haven’t been feeling great and it’s making me crabby.”
“It’s okay. You deserve a little crabby time.”
She smiled slightly and went to serve one customer and close out the tab on another. The bar was nearly empty now, so she poured herself a glass of wine. “How’d you end up finding Wheeler?”
“I was running … trying to burn off some steam, ended up by his place, and this need to talk to him about that night just … came over me. That’s when I found him.”
“And you called it in and are now an official suspect.”
“That pretty much nails it.” She fiddled with the edge of the cocktail napkin. “Why do you think this is all happening to me?”
“What do you mean?”