The Romance Revival(68)

“Great. Any other cars…?” Luca gently prompts.

“Let’s see. A few delivery trucks that parked on the street for longer than the approved time… A blue SUV. A black pickup truck. A white sedan—”

“White? With a strand of wood beads or something on the mirror?” Luca asks.

Betty looks at her notes. “Why, yes.”

“I saw that one, too,” he says. “Was a man driving?”

“Yes,” Betty says.

I reach for his forearm. “When was this?”

“On my walk,” he says. “I forgot to tell you because when I got home the police were there.”

I give Betty my own pointed look. Two can play at this game. “Right.”

She ignores me and continues to have a conversation only with Luca. “I’ve seen it two or three times in the past week.”

“I spoke to the man in the car,” Luca says. “He said he was considering buying in the neighborhood.”

“Well, good luck to him,” Betty scoffs. And when Luca doesn’t return the derisive response, she prompts, “Don’t you remember our conversation a couple of weeks ago?”

His smile turns tight. “Which one was that?”

“About there not being a single house for sale in Rancho Amaro?”

“Oh, yes, that, of course.” Luca nods, too quickly. My husband could never do my job; he’s a terrible liar. “Well, maybe he’s hoping one will open up.”

“Not with interest rates being what they are. No one is moving.” Betty sniffs, looking down the street. “Though I wouldn’t mind a few folks finding somewhere they like better.”

Luca smiles warmly at her, deftly avoiding this. “Thank you for your help, Mrs. Campbell. I’ll let you know if we need anything else.”

Oh shit.

Her eyes widen for a beat before her gaze turns slightly hard. “Luca, what have I told you?”

I stare up at him, hoping he picks up on this. “Told me?” he asks, sweetly.

“Please,” she says icily. “Call me Betty.”

“Right. Betty.” Luca gives her one more smile before waving and leading us back down the steps. I’m afraid of what I’ll see if I look back.





33 EMERY




You said ‘Campbell,’?” I say, wincing as we step onto our own porch.

Luca does a tiny double take in confusion. “What?”

“Betty’s last name is Caldwell, not Campbell. That’s not something you’d ever get wrong, and she knows it.”

“Okay, well, that explains the weird vibe at the end there.” With a shrug, Luca moves past me and into the house.

He’s distracted, and I get it—we have bigger things to worry about with Honey gone. But the last thing I want is for Betty to ramp up her nosiness again and bring the police back into the picture.

I follow him through the empty house. It’s so quiet. How was it just the two of us for so long?

“We’ll find her,” Luca says, opening his phone to Google. “I’m going to call the local vets and see if anyone’s brought her in. Maybe you could check with Annie?”

“Good idea.” Standing in the kitchen, I chew on my index fingernail while I look out the window into the backyard. I do a double take. “Luca…”

“Yeah?”

I walk to the door. When I don’t answer, he follows my gaze. Honey. Our big, silly dog is standing near the vegetable patch, tongue out, tail wagging enthusiastically. She woofs when she sees us.

Luca takes off toward her and I follow, kneeling beside him as he hugs her. Our eyes meet over the top of her head and the invitation is there. I throw my arms around them both, hugging my little family and working to not sob. “You goober dog, where did you go?”

“Was she here the whole time?”

I look up and the gate is closed again, fully latched. “Maybe? Am I losing my mind? Wasn’t the gate open?”

“It was, but we might have closed it when we left? Maybe she was just in the bushes or the shed and we didn’t see her?” He groans. “I’ve never been so scared. Is this what having kids is like?”

I feel along her body, making sure she’s okay. She seems completely fine. But then I feel a tiny patch on her front left leg where some hair is missing. “What’s this?”

Luca bends to inspect. “Looks like she got snagged somewhere.” He smooths it with his thumb, laughing. “Like the time Crash got his hair caught in his bike chain.”

I check the area, too. Not snagged, I think, shaved, with a tiny puncture mark and the beginnings of a bruise, almost like someone has drawn blood. But why—

And then Luca’s words catch up with me. “What did you say?”

“About Crash?”

“Yeah. When did that happen?”

“Junior high.”

“Oh my God.”

He looks up at me, brow furrowed. “What?”

“Did you just remember something from before the accident?”

His blue eyes go wide, a smile erupting. “Holy shit. I did. I actually remember.”

“Do you remember more?”

He closes his eyes for a breath before looking at me again. “His mom had to shave his head, so it didn’t look like he had a giant bald patch. And then she grounded him for being a dumbass.”