He pushed the heels of his hands into his eyes and rubbed. "Family trouble."
"Can you be more specific?"
"I'd rather not. It's embarrassing."
I looked out the conference room door, saw Tam sitting, listing left like a sinking boat, her ear cocked. She rarely missed much of what went on around here.
"You're not doing drugs are you?"
I heard a scraping noise from the wall behind me and had the feeling Kit, Deanna, Coby, and Marty were listening through the vent.
"What? No! I don't do that."
My eyebrow arched.
"Anymore," he put in.
The chimes on the front door startled me. My head snapped up.
She was here.
I gathered my files, stood up.
Jean-Claude glanced at me with big puppy dog eyes. "Please, Nina?"
Be strong, I told myself. "We'll talk about this later."
All right, so I copped out. But I really needed more information before I could fire him. Right?
Ugh.
I hated firing people.
As I walked out of the conference room, I heard scrambling from next door. I couldn't help but smile. At least I wasn't the only nosy one in the office.
"Lindsey," I said, holding out my hand to the tall winsome woman who'd just come in.
"Hi, Nina. Ready for me?" she asked as we shook.
I nodded as I led her into my office. Lindsey Lockhart.
Leah's sister.
Leah Quinn. Who happened to be Riley's mother. My soon-to-be-ex-husband Kevin's first wife.
The one who mysteriously died.
The one I knew nothing about.
Yet.
Two
I set the design board for the Lockharts' yard on an easel and sat in my swivel chair. "We just had our finalization meeting. Everything's on track."
"That's great," she said, her light eyes wide and bright as she stared at the board. "Everything looks just beautiful. I love those colors. The blues and whites are so soothing."
She had long brown hair, blonde highlights, and Riley's widow's peak. I wondered if her sister had had it too.
Leah Quinn had died long before I met Kevin, and in the eight years I'd been married to him, I'd never seen a single picture of the woman.
Riley must have her eyes. Kevin's were a dark green and Riley's were midnight blue.
"Thanks again for doing this, Nina. I know the yard is a mess."
An understatement if I'd ever heard one. The Lockhart yard . . .
I shuddered.
It was going to take a solid half day to excavate, even with Ignacio's crew's help. I made a mental note to confirm with Dexter Trucking that the extra dump trucks I hired would be at the site on time.
"When we—I mean I . . . When I found out through Riley about TBS, I couldn't believe my luck. It was just such perfect timing. I know it will be a tough job, though."
The "we" included Bill Lockhart, Lindsey's husband, who was the surprisee of this makeover.
"I'm always game for a challenge," I said. "Plus, we're practically family." When Riley had come to me, telling me that his aunt was interested in a makeover, I'd been fairly giddy. Finally, someone who knew the whole story about Leah's death.
When I saw the yard for the first time three weeks ago, I'd nearly backed out. My nosiness wasn't worth the trouble it was going to take to get the Lockhart job done in one day.
Then I'd thought of Riley. Of how happy he'd been lately. And I couldn't say no.
"How's Riley doing?" she asked.
"Pretty good. He really likes his job. Thanks for setting that up. He couldn't wait to get away from bagging groceries."
Lindsey laughed. "I don't know if flipping tofu burgers is a big step up, but Bill loves having him around."
Lindsey's husband Bill was the co-owner of Growl, a fast food restaurant featuring healthy alternatives. Riley had applied for a job there after one particularly horrifying afternoon at his old job as a grocery bagger when he'd been forced to triple bag someone's order; hit a car with a cart while on lot duty; and had his sneakers soaked in egg yolk when a plastic bag tore open, dumping out a carton of eggs. He'd quit that afternoon. It probably didn't help that he and his girlfriend Katie had broken up the night before.
He was still pouting over that, but it had been a month since he'd started his new job, and I hadn't heard a single complaint. Well, that wasn't true. Bill's business partner was apparently a micromanager, but after Riley learned that his uncle Bill was in charge of the restaurant Mondays, Wednesdays, Fridays, and Saturday nights, he'd changed his schedule.
All had been peaceful in my household lately.
Which was somewhat disturbing.
My house was rarely peaceful.
Not with having a fifteen-year-old living with me. Plus, my divorce from Kevin was in its final stages. Oh, and let's not forget my dysfunctional family. Between Ana, my sister Maria, and my parents . . .
This was clearly the calm before the storm.
Lord help me.
"What kind of trees are these?" she asked.
"These two," I said, pointing, "are Bradford pears. Nice pear shape and beautiful white blossoms in the spring. This is an ash. Fairly quick grower, lots of shade, and pretty yellow gold foliage in the fall."
"It all looks so beautiful."
"Can I ask why you've let the yard go all these years?" I'd been dying to ask.
Her small upturned nose scrunched. "Honestly, it's just one of those things. Surely, you understand."
Not really. I couldn't imagine having what looked like a third world jungle for my backyard. But hey, that's me.
"I don't know if we'd be doing it at all if it weren't for the lawsuit."
I perked up, leaned over my stained desk blotter. "Lawsuit?"
"Neighborhood HOA. Homeowners' association."
My eyes went wide. "Really?"
"Really. The fines from not fixing the yard mounted and, well, Bill, he, um, is stubborn and, well . . . here I am."
My eyebrows twitched. Something didn't sound right.
Lindsey tsked. "Poor Greta."
"Greta?"
"Oh! Um, our dog."
"Your dog? What's that have to do with the lawsuit?"
She shifted in her chair. "I just meant that even without the lawsuit, it was past time to get the yard done. Greta barely has any room to move out there." Her hands fluttered. "Plus, the ticks. You know."
I fell back against my chair. My eyebrow started twitching again. My eyebrows were my secret weapon against load-ofbull stories. If the twitching was any indication, Lindsey was seriously shoveling me a line.
Why?
"Ticks," I repeated.
"All that long grass." Her head snapped to the design board. "Is that a fire pit?"
I noted the change of subject. "A ceramic one, yes. For the corner of the deck. We talked about that last time, if you remember."
"Oh, right. Right."
Something wacky was happening, but I didn't know what. Clearly flustered, Lindsey fidgeted in her seat and couldn't keep her hands still. Her eyes danced from me to the board to the floor and back again.
This might be the perfect time to get information out of her. "Have you and Bill been married long?"
She smiled. "Twelve years."
"Really? You don't look old enough to be married twelve years!"
I was such a liar. She looked forty if a day.
She blushed clear to the roots of her blonde highlights. "You're sweet. Thanks. I'm forty-three."
"Leah was your younger sister, then?"
A cloud passed over her eyes, and for a second I didn't
think she was going to answer me. Finally, she said, "Yes."
"It must have been hard."
"Hardest on Riley, I think," Lindsey murmured. "To lose his mom."
Kevin too, I figured. He'd grieved a long time for his first wife. Five years.
I put my hands in my lap
, crossed my fingers. "What exactly happened to her?"
"Boating accident."
I knew that already. I pressed. "Did it crash?"
"Hasn't Kevin told you all this?"
Busted.
"Um, well, he doesn't like to talk about it."
"Neither do I, Nina. No offense."
This conversation was going downhill fast. "None taken," I said, thinking fast, grasping at straws.
I completely ignored my use of that particular cliché. It fit.
"It's just that since coming to work for you and Bill, Riley's been talking about his mom a lot. He has questions I can't answer."
I was going to burn in hell for my lies. I made a mental note to head to confession at St. Valentine's as soon as possible.
Then I remembered I hated confession.
Maybe I'd just do some acts of kindness on my own as penance. God would accept that, wouldn't He?
Probably I was going to hell.
"Have him come to talk to me. My door is always open."
To him. Her point was clear. She was done talking to me about it.
Great. I'd taken on this job to get more information about Leah and her death, and I'd just gotten shafted. Now I was stuck with a nightmare of a job and no answers.
This was what I got for snooping.
"Well, what's Bill doing tomorrow?" I loved hearing the ways people tricked unknowing spouses to leave the house while the makeover took place.
"Bill?" she asked, her eyebrows dipping in confusion.
"Oh, he'll be at work, right?" I remembered Riley worked tomorrow, a Friday, which meant it was a day Bill would be there.
"In the afternoon," she said.
My shoulders stiffened. "Not the morning?"
"Oh, no. The restaurant doesn't open till eleven. Bill likes to sleep late."
My crew was due to arrive at six-thirty, the trucks at seven. This wasn't good, and I told Lindsey so. "Unless he knows about the makeover?" Some people did that. People who just wanted their yard done in a day, but I tried to only take on clients who wanted the surprise, to keep the integrity of the business.
"Oh!" Her hands fluttered again. "Right. He's, um, going, um, fishing. First light."
My eyebrows jumped up to my hairline. "Fishing."
She nodded enthusiastically. "He loves it." Grabbing her purse, she said, "I've got to go, Nina. See you tomorrow."
I stood and walked her to the front door, all the while trying to make sense of what had just happened.
Frenzied chiming filled the air as she thrust open the door, practically ran to her Escalade.
I turned to Tam.
"You have that look," she said.
"What look?"
"Like you're trying to figure out impossible calculus equations."
Calculus. Ugh. I'd flunked that my senior year of high school and had only scraped by my freshman year of college. And only then because I'd had a crush on my math tutor and wanted to please him.
"I get the weirdest feeling with her." The Escalade fishtailed out of the TBS parking lot.
"Like?" Tam asked.
"It's just that some of the things she's said don't jell. I don't know. Maybe I'm being paranoid."
"You are a paranoid kind of person."
"Thanks."
Smiling sweetly, she said, "No problem."
Shaking my head, I walked back into my office. The phone rang and my hopeful gaze jumped to the clock. Bobby usually called on his lunch break, at eleven-fifteen.
It was only ten-thirty.
Bobby MacKenna was Riley's vice principal during the school year. During the summer he helped out with his family's business—house painting. We'd been "dating" for almost six weeks now.
One of these days he was going to want to sleep with me.
Okay, okay. I needed to reword that. One of these days he was going to get sick of waiting for me to let him sleep with me.
I just hadn't been ready. How on earth could I let another man share my bed when I still had feelings for Kevin?
Homicide detective Kevin Quinn. Who in ten days would be my ex-husband.
Granted, I didn't quite know what those feelings were, but they were there. And until I figured them out, it wouldn't be fair to Bobby to pursue anything deeper, and it wouldn't be fair to me.
Then I thought about losing him, and my heart ached.
Jeez. A girl couldn't win.
"Nina?"
I turned and found Tam in the doorway, twisting her hands over her extended belly.
"What's the matter?" I asked. "The baby? Now?"
"No, no. I'm fine," she said, looking anything but.
My heart sank to my toes. "Then what?"
"There's been an accident. With Riley."
Three
White-knuckled, Tam clenched the steering wheel. "He's fine. Just fine. Everything's fine."
She drove because I was still shaking. My hands, my legs . . . Even my teeth chattered.
Riley.
Oh dear God. Please.
"Tell me again what Mr. Cabrera said?"
"Some sort of car accident, Nina. Riley was on his skateboard. He'll be fine. Just fine."
"Was he wearing his helmet?" I couldn't count the number of times I had to remind him to wear that helmet. He hated it. Called it "not cool."
Better not cool than dead, I'd told him.
Oh Lord, oh Lord.
Tam swerved out of the high-speed lane, into the center lane, and back into the left lane on I-275 eastbound. Horns honked in our wake. "I don't know." She pressed harder on the gas pedal.
"Oh no," she said.
"What?"
Then I heard it. The too familiar whoop-whoop of a police
car. I spun to look out the back window. Sure enough, a silver cruiser was right behind us.
Tam slowed and pulled off onto the berm. "Let me take care of this," she said, fluffing her curls.
Oh dear God.
With all the praying I was doing today, I definitely needed to visit St. Valentine's soon. Maybe I ought to make an appointment to see Father Keesler. I would need a while.
Tam's window slid down and she looked out at the officer peering in.
"Where's the fire?" he asked.
Original, I couldn't help but think sarcastically, but luckily kept my big mouth shut.
"Not fire, officer, water."
"Water?" he questioned.
"Mine broke! The baby's coming!" She motioned to her rather large belly. "I feel like I need to push!"
Tam was brilliant! I have excellent taste in employees. Then I remembered Jean-Claude. Okay, somewhat excellent taste.
"Yes," I said, "we really need to get to the hospital, officer."
He nodded to me. "Why aren't you driving?"
Why wasn't I?
"Oh," Tam said, "she's in no condition to drive."
"You been drinking, ma'am?"
Ma'am. Hmmph. "Me? No!"
"Painkillers," Tam whispered. "Back problems."
"Oh."
"Oooooh," Tam cried, holding her stomach.
"I'm going to call EMS," the officer said.
"No, no. I hate ambulances. I can make it . . . if we hurry."
The back of her head was to me, but I could imagine her blinking her beautiful blue eyes at him.
"Ma'am, I can't let you do that."
I lurched forward as Tam stepped on the gas. My jaw dropped open as I looked at her.
She smiled wide, a twinkle in her eye.
"You're insane!" I cried.
"Where's your sense of fun?" she asked, still grinning.
"Not here, that's for sure!" I peered around my headrest, looking out the back window. The officer had jumped in his car and was closing in fast. Oh God.
Digging Up Trouble Page 2
