Chapter 12
Noah
Ipull into Lottie’s driveway with two pepperoni pizzas in the passenger seat, and Toby panting in the back.
The house looks like organized chaos exploded. Through the window, I can see bodies moving, small ones, teenage ones, and one very familiar blonde one that makes my chest do something I’m not willing to examine too closely.
I grab the pizzas and head inside. “Hello, ladies!”
Ava and Olivia look up from the couch, and I give them both a pat on the head. Lyla Nell launches herself at my leg, wrapping around it like a barnacle.
“Daddy!”
I can’t help but grin. At least someone in this house is happy to see me.
The scene inside is pure chaos. The boys are in their bouncers, spinning and laughing.
Lyla Nell breaks away from my leg and goes back to pretending she has an elephant on a leash, tugging at invisible reins.
And I have no doubt she’s doing just that.
While I’m not crazy about the fact she can see the dead, I’m glad she can bond with her mother over it.
Ava and Olivia are holding Pancake and Waffles hostage in their arms, and the cats look resigned to their fate. I know the feeling. This family has a way of wrapping itself around you and never letting go. Not that anyone’s complaining. Well, except maybe Waffles.
Carlotta is tossing what looks like fancy cheese puffs into her mouth.
Toby bounds in behind me with his tail wagging, and Ava and Olivia immediately abandon the cats to greet him. Smart dog. He’s been working the cute angle his whole life.
No sooner do I set the pizzas down than Lottie comes at me and wraps her arms around me, and I hug her right back. She lingers. Longer than usual, and I take in the addicting vanilla scent from her hair.
“Sorry,” she says, finally pulling away. “I needed that.”
“Never apologize,” I say. “How was your day?” I frown because I think I already know the answer. Lottie looks downright frazzled at the moment. Her hair’s doing that thing where it sticks up in the back, and there’s what looks like baby spit-up on her shoulder.
“Where’s Everett?” I ask. “Counting Cheerios in a corner?”
“That would be me,” she says with a sigh. “He got called back to court.”
I find that amusing. Very amusing. The man finally gets a week off, and the universe hands him a bench warrant back to the courthouse. Couldn’t have happened to a nicer guy.
Carlotta snorts. “Sexy’s missing out on all the fun. Poor guy probably thinks he dodged a bullet.”
“He didn’t,” Lottie mutters.
Ava and Olivia walk by, talking to each other in a strange language I’ve never heard before, rapid-fire syllables that sound like English but definitely aren’t.
I squint at Lottie. “Is that French?”
“I don’t think so,” she says, watching them with a bewildered expression. “They’ve been doing it all day, and I can’t for the life of me figure it out. I’d swear on a stack of Bibles that it’s some sort of gibberish.”
I’ve interrogated hardened criminals who were easier to crack than two thirteen-year-olds with a secret language. I’d put money on the girls.
The door swings open, and Evie walks in looking tan, relaxed, and overall happy.
“Hey, everyone!” she says, dropping her bag by the door. “I’ve been out with Dash, Kyle, and Connor all day at Honey Lake. But I’m baaack!” She holds up her hands and does a little dance.
Dash would be her best friend, and Kyle and Connor would be their respective boyfriends. They’re all attending Ashford University together. And now and again, I’m lucky enough to take my niece to lunch when I’m down at the precinct.
Ava and Olivia flock to Evie as if she were their queen, and the three of them begin chatting a mile a minute. In English.
Lottie looks at me, her voice dropping low. “So what’s going on with the case?”
“Nothing so far,” I say. I’m not about to tell her I’ve got a suspect list as long as my arm and my mother’s name happens to be on it.
But then, this is Lottie Lemon. She already knows that.
Keeping information from this woman is like hiding a grilled steak from Toby. Technically possible, never successful.
She crosses her arms. “I saw your name on the list for the Local Legends Circus Benefit.”
I open my mouth to explain myself, to tell her it’s strategic, that I need to be close to the suspects, that it’s the smart move—but the door opens before I get a chance and in strides big daddy himself.
“Well, if it isn’t the procreator,” I tease.
Everett raises the takeout bags. “And I brought reinforcements.”
Something tells me he seriously underestimated the size of the battle.