We were outside and it was after pancakes; after Max took Linda back to town while I had a shower; after me getting ready; after Mom and Steve had arrived; after Steve had shoveled the steps to the house; and after Max got back in time for Mom to make grilled cheese sandwiches for lunch.

And, I guessed, watching Mick hop down from the cab of the SUV, after my shooting lesson.

“What now?” Max muttered, taking the gun from my hand, sliding on the safety and shoving it in the waistband of his jeans as he watched Mick saunter to us.

“Hey Max, Nina,” Mick called when he was close.

“Hi Mick,” I called back, Mick’s eyes went to Mom and Steve, “these are my parents, Nell and Steve Locke.”

“How d’ya do?” Mick greeted, arriving at our group.

I got a good look at his face and I tensed.

Mom and Steve didn’t answer because Max got there before them.

“What’s up?” Max asked and from his tone I knew he’d gotten a good look at Mick’s face too.

Mick looked at Max. “You think we can talk privately?”

“Shit,” Max muttered.

“Steve and I’ll go in, make coffee, how’s that?” Mom enquired and I looked at her. She’d wrapped both her hands around Steve’s bicep and she, too, was reading Mick’s expression.

“Thanks, Miz Locke,” Mick replied, Mom nodded and both Mom and Steve gave Max and me a look before they started moving toward the A-Frame.

“Nellie, please, no one calls me Mrs. Locke,” Mom invited from over her shoulder, still walking away.

Mick nodded at Mom, waited several moments as she and Steve made their way to the house and then he turned to Max and me.

“I’ll just… um… go with them,” I offered, starting to move away.

“Nina, reckon you should stay,” Mick told me, my breath caught and my body locked.

“What’s up?” Max repeated, Mick looked at him and I slid my thumb through the belt loop at the back of Max’s jeans.

“You know that PI Dodd hired?” Mick asked Max.

“Yeah,” Max answered.

“Welp, we found him dead,” Mick informed Max.

“What?” I breathed, moving closer to Max.

“Found him dead,” Mick repeated, his eyes coming to me for his answer then going back to Max. “Been dead awhile. Some boys found him at one of Dodd’s building sites.”

“When?” Max queried.

“Coroner’s guessin’ the same night Curt was done,” Mick replied.

“How’d he die?” Max asked.

“Messy,” Mick answered. “Not clean, not professional. He’d been tied up, taken there, killed. Shot four times. Twice in the head, twice the chest. Whoever did it wanted to make sure he was dead.”

Max stared at Mick and I moved closer, so much closer Max was forced to slide an arm along my shoulders.

“Can I ask why you’re up here tellin’ me this?” Max queried.

Mick shuffled his feet, twisted his neck uncomfortably then looked Max in the eye. “Did you know your sister Kami bought a .38 ‘bout a month ago?”

I felt Max go still at my side. Then he answered, “No.”

“Paperwork filed then,” Mick went on, “got it at Zip’s Gun Emporium in Denver.”

“You’re tellin’ me this because…?” Max prompted.

“’Cause the PI was killed with a .38.”

“Jesus Christ, Mick!” Max exploded, coming unstuck, he leaned into Mick. “You tellin’ me you think Kami murdered this PI?”

Mick’s hands came up but he kept the dire information flowing. “She borrowed on her house, Max. Twenty-five K.”

“Fuck,” Max clipped.

“You know about that?” Mick asked.

“No,” Max bit out.

“Jeff ‘n’ Pete are bringin’ her in now,” Mick told Max.

“My sister didn’t kill any PI, Mick,” Max returned. “And she sure as f**k didn’t hire someone to kill Curt.”

“It ain’t lookin’ good for her, Max,” Mick replied.

I butted in, asking, “Why are you telling Max this, Mick?”

“I ain’t tellin’ Max, Nina,” Mick said to me. “I’m tellin’ you.”

I blinked. Then I asked, “Me?”

“Heard word you’re an attorney,” Mick explained. “We been combin’ Kami’s records, she don’t got a lot, bank statements show she’s pretty much got zilch, livin’ from paycheck to paycheck, beyond her means, flyin’ high in her Lexus cartin’ around those fancy-ass purses on credit. Figure she’ll need some help ‘round about now and George isn’t only covered in work, he’s pricey.”

“You’re coming here because you want her to lawyer up?” I asked in disbelief.

“I’m here because I watched Kami Maxwell grow up and doin’ that I watched her grow bitter.” His eyes went to Max. “Just like her Ma, wantin’ a man she had but let him get away.”

“Don’t mean she killed a man, Mick,” Max returned.

“She did this, whatever pushed her to it, she’s still one of our own and, right now, she needs help,” Mick told him.

“This is f**ked up,” Max clipped.

“She’s got motive, she had twenty-five large that went in and out of her account in about three days. We talk to her and she don’t have an alibi, we may find she had opportunity,” Mick said to Max.

“Kami ain’t small but she’s also not got the strength to subdue a man, tie him up, take him to a building site and drill four rounds into him,” Max retorted.

“Toxicology shows he was roofied,” Mick stated.

“That’s not good,” I muttered and Max’s eyes sliced to me.

“Roofied?” Max asked.

“Date rate drug,” I answered.

“Christ,” Max bit out and looked back at Mick. “Kami doesn’t have it in her to shoot a man four times, he’s drugged or not.”

“That’s what I’m hopin’, Max, you got to know that. But I also gotta do my job and this is what we got. She don’t have an alibi and some good reason to buy a gun and take a loan against her house and blow it all in three days, what can I say? Any way you look at it, with her history with Curt and Bitsy, the evidence we got, it ain’t lookin’ good.”