The Detective. Adrienne Giordano

to tell them when the time is right.”

      She met his gaze and her eyebrows lifted a millimeter. Classic body language for surprise. Excellent. If he’d scored points, great, but in this situation, he was damned certain his answer was the right one for different reasons. Reasons that involved three kids who’d lost their father.

      Williams was a schmuck, but he was their schmuck.

      Brenda glanced at the oversize clock on the wall. “I’m sorry. We’ll need to leave in a few minutes and I know Lexi had some samples for me.”

      “Of course,” Brodey said. “Is it all right if I follow up with you in a day or so?”

      “Certainly. And thank you. If we can, I’d like to know what happened to him. He wasn’t a great husband, but I loved him. Whatever his sins, I loved him.”

      * * *

      AT SIX-OH-FIVE Brodey hustled through his parents’ front door and got the shock of his life.

      Jenna and Brent, his sister’s massive US marshal of a boyfriend, had beat him there. What the hell? On any normal day, he arrived early and they were late. Tonight, he needed them to be later than he was because one thing was for sure. If dinner was ready and you weren’t there, they didn’t wait.

      No. Sir.

      “Well, hell. The one time I’m late and you two can’t throw me a bone and be even later than I am?”

      Brent scooped a mountain of mashed potatoes onto his plate, then passed the bowl to Brodey’s youngest brother, Evan. “My fault,” he said. “Problem with my witness got squared away faster than I thought.”

      “Anything good?” Dad asked.

      “Eh, death threat. Not on my shift, though. Shift before mine. I got him to a new location and headed back before the Eisenhower went schizo.”

      Brodey slid into his normal chair next to his mother just as the meat loaf hit his spot. But damn, he loved his mother’s meat loaf.

      “I swear,” Mom said, “we cannot get through a meal in this house without some form of law-enforcement talk.”

      “Sorry, ma’am,” Brent said.

      “It’s certainly not your fault.”

      Across from him, Jenna snatched a roll from the basket of bread and handed it over. “How’d you do today, Brodey? With the widow?”

      Pretzel rolls. Mom had gone all the way tonight. He took two rolls and sent the basket to his father. “I need the case file. She says she didn’t know anything until after he bit it. I think I believe her. Not sure. Dad, can you get me any notes on this thing?”

      Before his father could answer, Jenna held her hand up. “What happened to you getting in and out quick?”

      “Still goes. I’ll look at the file, tell you what I think, then I’m gone. I’m still holding to my two days of research.”

      “She got to you.”

      “Stop it.”

      “Or maybe it was the kids.”

      He breathed in, sent his sister a glare. “Stop. It.”

      She elbowed Brent. “Told you this would happen. He’s cooked. He must have seen those kids and his heart melted. I know my brother.”

      Dad snorted. “That you do, my angel.”

      Whatever. “Maybe I’m curious. I’m a detective doing my due diligence. The widow was cleared, but she’s definitely angry.”

      Dad swallowed a mouthful of food and waved his fork. “You like the widow for this?”

      “I don’t see her taking this guy out, but she should get another look. See what’s what.”

      Dad did his quasi head tilt/nod. “After dinner I’ll make a couple of calls. See who can get a copy of a report or two. You never know.”

      Exactly what he’d walked in here needing. His father always came through. Always. “Thanks, Dad.” He looked across to his sister, who eyed him like a tiger on prey. “I’m not denying I saw those kids and all I could think was they got screwed out of ball games and fishing trips with their father.” He poked himself in the chest. “I got that. They didn’t. Doesn’t seem fair.”

      “It’s not fair,” Jenna said. “That’s why I knew you couldn’t walk away from this. Family is too important to you.”

      What the hell did that mean? “You played me?”

      She grinned. “Only a little.”

      His little sister, the conniver. And a damned good investigator. “At least you admit it. After today, we’re in this together. You, me and decorator Lexi.”