Police!â
five
Michael flung open the door. âWhat are you two doing here?â Granted, I couldnât see his face, but his tone didnât exactly sound welcoming.
Rene didnât seem to notice. âHey there, gorgeous. Good to see you, too!â She gave Michael a quick peck on the cheek and pressed through the doorway wearing a wide, sparkling grin. Sam staggered behind her, loaded down with enough bags for a month long vacationâfor a family of twelve.
Rene tossed her purse on the table. âThe chick at the office told us where to find you. I tried calling from the ferry, but you didnât answer, so I decided to surprise you.â She opened her arms wide. âSurprise!â
I stared at her, speechless, still recovering from a severe case of about-to-coitus interruptus.
Rene took a step back, crossed her arms, and cocked her head to the side. âYou two donât look happy to see me.â
âWeâre not. We were just about toââ
I silenced Michael with a well-placed poke to the ribs. âOf course weâre glad youâre here. Your timing is perfect. We were just about to go get lunch in Eastsound.â Michael didnât correct me. âBut Iâm surprised. I thought you were sick.â
Rene looked down at the floor and chewed on her lower lip. âOh well ⦠you know ⦠Iâm feeling much better now. And Samâs on a break between software projects, so we decided to come after all.â
She flashed a plastic smile, begging me to drop the subject. I would normally have forced her to cough up the truth, but this time I hesitated. Rene was hiding something. Any gullible, Santa Claus-loving five-year-old would have seen that. But if the hurt look on Samâs face was any indication, she was hiding it from him, too.
And it couldnât be good.
The woman standing before me was not my best friend. My best friend had a never-ending supply of energy and super-defined musclesâthe kind typically seen in rock music videos. Most days, if I hadnât loved her so much, I would have been forced to hate her.
Today I couldnât even drum up a spark of envy. Reneâs typically flawless, alabaster skin was a sickly shade of greenish-yellow. Purple crescents underscored the pink, puffy skin underneath her eyes. Her normally confident posture was slumped, tired looking. Even her body lookedâdare I say it? Soft.
I wrapped my arm around her shoulder, gave her a hug, and whispered. âAre you OK?â
She whispered back. âShhh. Iâll talk to you when weâre alone.â
âYou two can catch up later,â Sam grumped from behind us. âWhere should I put these bags? My arms are about to fall off.â
âSorry, Sam.â I gestured to the living room. âPut them in there.â
Sam dropped Reneâs bags on the floor with a disgusted whumpf while Michael released Bella from her temporary prison. Bella gleefully skidded across the floor and greeted Rene with her unique I-love-you happy dance of whines, wiggles, play bows, and kisses.
Sam knelt down, held out his hand, and cooed, âHey Bella baby. How are you?â Bella looked his direction, flattened her ears, sneezed once, and slinked to the opposite side of the room.
âBella, say hello,â Michael commanded.
Bella refused. She planted all four feet firmly on the hardwood floor and glared, sending Sam an obvious message. Donât let the door hit you on your way out .
âI donât get it,â Sam said, sounding wounded. âI love animals. I love Bella, for that matter. Why doesnât she like me?â
âIâm sorry, Sam. I think itâs your mustache. Sheâs still funny about facial hair.â
Samâs mustache was the only reasonable explanation why Bella hadnât taken to him. She certainly couldnât mind the rest of his looks. With straight blond hair, surfer-boy blue eyes, and
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