Deadly Sins by Kylie Brant

facts she’d allow herself to care about. Her defenses were a lot stronger these days. She’d had eight years to strengthen them.
    Turning, she strode rapidly to her black Impala. Unlocked the door to open it. Slid inside. He made no attempt to stop her. She didn’t expect him to. Raiker’s good-byes were abrupt.
    And final.
    Once she’d pulled away from the curb, she checked the clock on the dash, felt a stab of guilt. Fumbling to pull her cell phone from her purse, she hit the speed dial number and waited impatiently for it to be answered.
    Traffic was heavy. The Georgetown area that housed Jerry’s church was teaming with college kids jostling on the crowded sidewalks. But the view didn’t bring back memories of her own long-ago university years. Her mind was on the reason for the call.
    “Mother.” A flicker of relief met the familiar tone that finally answered. “I suppose Royce is in bed already.”
    “I’m just fine, Jaidlyn, thank you.”
    Jaid’s teeth ground a bit as she halted for a red light. It was so like Patricia Marlowe to first focus on the social niceties. “I hope you’re still well, since I last saw you this morning,” she said with barely restrained irony. “I’d like to speak to Royce if he’s still up.”
    The response was preceded by a long-suffering sigh. “Well, of course, he’s asleep, dear. You know I’m a stickler about bedtimes, even on weekends.”
    When the light flashed green, she nosed her car through the intersection. Patricia’s last words had been aimed at her. Because last weekend Royce had been up past bedtime. Saturdays were their special nights together. Sometimes they’d watch a marathon of those silly comedies young boys thought were so hilarious. Or engage in a brutal Wii marathon. Boxing. Tennis. Football. But for the foreseeable future their time together was going to be curtailed by this case. From experience she knew better than to issue false promises to him to assuage her remorse. Promises that would almost certainly be broken. She wondered how other single parents managed the ensuing guilt that invariably arose from balancing a challenging career with raising a child.
    “Of course. How was the birthday party he attended after school?”
    “Oh fine.” As her mother chattered on about her free hours spent cleaning Jaid’s home, cleaning that—in her estimation—had been completely unnecessary, she found her attention wandering. She’d probably be up and gone again before Royce in the morning, but she’d make a point to give him a call sometime during the day tomorrow. The older the boy got, the more she hated to leave him for extended periods of time with her mother. Patricia had come around, softening a bit over the years, but she would never be a warm grandmotherly type. That would have represented a metamorphosis worthy of a Kafka novel.
    She considered cutting the call short. Thought better of it. The drone of her mother’s voice in her ear was never a pleasant prospect, but it was infinitely preferable to the alternative.
    Like spending the long drive home thinking about Adam Raiker.

    Mose Ferrell watched the cars pull away from the curb before starting his own vehicle. He was in no hurry. If the man was heading home, Mose had an hour’s drive ahead of him. And he had to be sure the woman wasn’t going to follow the man back to his town house. Mose’s orders had been very specific. No witnesses.
    At this time of night he wasn’t certain he’d find a stretch of interstate that would fit that description, but adrenaline spiked anyway. He had a feeling tonight he’d finally see some excitement.
    And so would Adam Raiker.

    Adam sent a considering look at his silent cell on the console below the dash and the Bluetooth headset beside it. Talking on the phone was a useful evil in his line of work, but never one he’d learned to enjoy. Using the wireless headset or speakerphone lent the act a hellish element. He needed to talk to Paulie