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CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Sloan considered it another very good day. She’d regained her rhythm physically, professionally, and—for the most part—emotionally.
The occasional nightmare hardly counted.
When she needed a mental health break, she worked out, or she crocheted—something she could now do passably well while watching TV.
In anticipation of her gutted bathroom, she took everything out of the vanity, the shower, pulled towels off the rods and transferred them to the second bath.
In the kitchen she made herself some stir-fry with chicken as protein. Then sitting at her little table with her dinner and her laptop, initiated a background check on Theo (not Theodore, but Theo) Littlefield.
No criminal, so good there. No civil suits, no accusations of domestic abuse, no criminal charges period. A couple of speeding tickets. He’d passed the bar six months before, and as of December sixteenth, became a licensed contractor.
“Nothing to see here,” Sloan concluded. She took a moment to evaluate herself, and found she wasn’t just relieved but happy.
Drea deserved a good man who loved the air she breathed.
Since she’d started it, she ran the same on Nash.
No criminal, unless she counted the underage drinking violation. Which, from the dates, the location, she took to be a senior high school kegger.
She couldn’t hold it against him, as she’d have the same on her record if she’d gotten caught.
She’d either been luckier or more strategic.
She found more than a couple of speeding tickets in his late teens, early twenties. But apparently he’d regulated himself in that area.
She came up with one civil case, from three years prior. Then found herself shocked to see his own parents had brought it against him.
They’d sued their son to try to cut him off from the chunk of money he’d receive from his trust fund at thirty.
They’d lost, and in fact had been ordered to pay Nash’s legal fees. She just couldn’t get over the fact parents would go so far against their own son.
And for money. The reason somehow made it even worse.
“Not my business. It’s really not my business. So enough. Nothing to see here either.”
She could hand over her spare key to the Fix-Its without a qualm.
She put it aside, did her dishes.
After building up the fire, she brought her laptop to the living room. Feet up on the coffee table, she started her search for like crimes.
She found nothing that fit the specific and narrow parameters on Janet Anderson, so widened it.
She paused for a text from Joel.
Just checking in, Sarge! Have to tell you Sari really, truly felt our girl move!! She said it felt like a bunch of butterflies flying around and flipping over. Had her checkup, too, and I heard the heartbeat. They said we’re all a-okay, and our girl’s about the size of a banana. Saw her in there, too. And didn’t need them to show me. Sending Auntie Sloan a pic.
Studying the ultrasound warmed Sloan’s heart. And this time she could make out Joel’s girl—because Mama Dee hit that target—easily.
This is so exciting! And she just gets prettier. So glad you’re all a-okay. Butterflies. You could name her Lotis for the lotis blue—one of the rarest. I can’t wait to meet her. All’s goodhere. Getting my bathroom ripped out and redone. That’s my excitement. Love to all of you. Keep me updated on the baby.
Joel sent her a baby emoji as a sign-off.
Still feeling that warmth, she nearly put the search away. She could watch a movie instead, or get back to reading the book she’d started the night before.
Or try her luck on crocheting a hat.