“We will.” Tanaka started for the door, but paused at the threshold. “When I talked to Ms. Marsh, she said her sister, the cop, was on her way over and she seemed to think Detective Pescoli was, like, a part of the investigation.”
“Not officially.” Again he leaned back in his chair.
“Unofficially?”
“We’ll see.”
“Huh.” She thought about that, obviously rolling it over in her mind, pulled a face, and then said, “Well, you’re the lead.”
“That I am.”
“So it’s your funeral if having her involved blows up in all our faces.”
“Yep.”
She flashed him a smile without a trace of warmth. “Because it’s not going to be mine.” With that she slapped the doorjamb and took off down the hall, her boot heels clipping smartly.
* * *
With the aid of the GPS, Pescoli found her way to Sarina’s condo and parked on the street in front of a fourplex that housed her unit. Bianca raced ahead with the diaper bag while Pescoli followed with the baby carrier.
“Oh. My. God. He’s absolutely adorable!” Sarina gushed when she spied the baby. In jeans and a long-sleeved T-shirt, she’d answered the door, ushered them inside. She was more composed today, her brown hair curling around her face, her makeup intact. After hugging Bianca as if her life depended on it, she’d finally paid attention to her nephew. “It makes me want another.”
“What?” Collette, who had been seated on the edge of a couch in the sunken living room, stood and walked toward the entryway. She stared down at Tucker’s downy head. “Nope,” she said, looking put together in black yoga pants and matching long-sleeved top over which she wore a looser silver tunic. “Two’s enough.”
“I know, I know, and . . . well, I couldn’t even if I wanted to,” Sarina said on a sigh as she looked from one of her sisters to the other. “With Denny out of his mind now . . . you know, having his midlife crisis with that . . . that slut, it’s out of the question.”
“Wow,” Bianca said, staring at her aunt.
Sarina blushed. “I’m sorry, honey, but your uncle is . . . is . . . well, there’s no getting around it. He’s just being an ass. A stupid ass.” Her lips twisted into a knot of disapproval and she blinked at a sudden spate of tears.
Regan kept her mouth shut, but shared a look with her daughter, who knew all about middle-aged men running off the rails. Neither of them brought up Lucky’s name.
“Maybe we should talk about something else,” Collette advised, and shepherded Sarina past a set of stairs leading to a loft overhead. “Regan can bring us up to speed about . . . the investigation.”
“Oh, God,” Sarina said, and looked about to burst into tears at the thought of her sister. “Of course. It’s just . . . He just makes me nuts, and that woman—”
“Sarina,” Collette said gently, propelling her forward. “Why don’t you settle Regan’s kids into the family room and we can stay out here and talk? The boys will be home soon, right?”
Sarina glanced at her watch. “Forty minutes give or take.” To Regan she said, “You’re staying with us tonight? That’s still on?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Good. I made up the guest bed and then there’s the loft and I can watch the baby any time, any time you or Bianca need a break.” She showed Bianca and Tucker to the guest room and then hurried back.
“We brought our stuff.” Regan wasn’t all that cool at the thought of bunking in with Sarina and her sons, especially not in Sarina’s current emotional state. But she was right, Bianca and Regan could use another set of eyes and hands for Tucker.
“Please tell me there’s some word on Ivy,” Sarina pleaded.
“Nothing I’ve heard, though I’m not exactly in the loop.”
“Well, get in it,” Collette said, obviously worried.
“Trust me, I want to find her.” She didn’t add “desperately,” but she was starting to really worry.
Sarina glanced at the clock on the stove. “Seth should be here any minute.?
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