Cast the First Stone (The True Lies of Rembrandt Stone 1)

Burke has backed away, staring at me like I’m speaking Russian. And he’s shaking his head.

“I can’t remember, though. Where the second—or

third—bombings took place. You’d think I’d remember the exact location, but it’s escaping me. Sort of like the lyrics to a song I know I should know, but can’t quite put my finger on. So, I’ve been driving around, hoping something jogs my memory.”

He frowns, a tiny smile playing on his lips. And for a second, I think, yeah, it’s sadly funny. But Burke is on my team, backing me up, my partner.

He starts to laugh, shaking his head, grinning. “Geez, Rem. Seriously, you had me going there.”

Huh. I lick my lips, my mouth oddly dry as he slaps one of his big maws on my shoulder. “You and Eve? Right. Yeah, dude, you are dreaming.”

I just gape at him because, “What’s so crazy about that? We’re married. We have a kid.”

“Eve Mulligan ain’t ever gonna marry you.” He laughs. “Saying she’s out of your league is like saying Fran Tarkenton was a sorta okay quarterback.”

I know that, but it hurts a little to see Burke so convinced.

“I’ll have you know that Eve thinks…she’s a fan. We’re good together.”

Burke comes close now, is staring into my eyes, searching. “I don’t know why you’re pranking me, but…good one. You sounded as serious as a heart attack.”

“I am serious.”

“Mmmhmm. Okay, it’s time to call it a night.”

He pushes past me and climbs into the driver’s seat.

“Hey.”

“What did I just tell you? I’m driving. Get in if you want a ride.”

I stifle a word and head around to the passenger side. “I have three more shops on my list.”

“Forget it. I’m taking you home.”

I shake my head, but he puts the car into drive. “If it’s a dream, you can wake up tomorrow and start over. I know, maybe you can take a look at the file and figure out where the shops were, save us some time, huh?”

He’s smirking, mocking me, but the words, the idea slips into my head.

I’ll do exactly that. When I wake up, I’ll go over the case. Then when night hits, I’ll take another sleeping pill, or whatever knocked me into this loop and find myself back in time, starting over.

And I’ll do things right with Eve, too. I won’t knock coffee on her, but I’ll figure out something witty to say. This time I’ll score a date, without Burke, and figure out a way to fast-track our romance.

Not spend ten years figuring out that I can’t live without her. Because Burke is right, she is way out of my league, and doesn’t deserve what I put her through.

So I settle back in my seat as Burke turns us around, down to Chicago Avenue, then south to Lake, and west to Holmes. He pulls up in front of the brownstone.

It takes me a second. Because I don’t yet live on Washburn in our updated craftsman.

He hands me my key off my ring. “I’ll pick you up in the morning.”

I pile out and stand there as he leaves me. And now I get it.

He thinks I’ve lost it, or maybe yes, high, although it’s been at least thirty years since my last joint. So he’s left me on the curb to sleep off the crazy.

Hmm.

I head inside the brownstone and up the stairs to the third floor. My key fits into the lock as if it knows the way and suddenly, I’m inside my old digs. Shadows fall through the front window blinds and stripe the oak floor. I’m not a messy person—never have been, but admittedly, Eve has trained me, so I’m not surprised to see a T-shirt crumpled on the sofa where I last used it as a pillow. And on the floor of my room, a pair of socks.