Page 37

“What kind of fall?”
“Paddleboard. Witnesses saw her fall in—no foul play. It took a minute for her husband to realize she wasn’t coming back up. She’d hit her head on the board. Officer First Class Wilber was on patrol. They got her into the boat, did CPR, mouth-to-mouth, and got her back.”
“Lingering issues? Physical, emotional?”
“Nothing physical. Her husband said she has some bad dreams every so often, some anxiety. And she was nervous about making this family meal. We’re not discounting any of that. Search teams are out, with canines. No ransom contact.”
“I saw her photo. She’s very pretty. Young and pretty.”
“Not discounting that either. It takes balls or crazy to abduct a woman in a grocery store parking lot at somewhere around four-thirty in the afternoon.”
“Yeah, it does. Thanks for filling me in, Cap. I miss the job.”
“I bet it misses you, Corporal. I’ll be by to see you in a few days.”
“Looking forward to it. Happy Thanksgiving to your family, too.”
“And to yours. Tell your old man he owes me that beer.”
“Will do.”
She picked up three-pound weights, sat on the bench. And as she curled, thought about Janet Anderson.
When she finished, she went upstairs, set her phone alarm, and slept for fifteen minutes. Considering she’d see extended family—and they’d see her—she took time to do her makeup.
Then stared at herself in the mirror. It actually helped. Maybe it didn’t cover the healing wound on her forehead, but it helped.
Spirits boosted, she chose a dark green sweater, the dark gray jeans she considered moderately dressy. Weight loss meant she needed a belt, and they still bagged in the ass some, but better.
Since her sister had packed them, she added earrings, two small hoops for her left ear, one for the right.
Then stood back, took stock.
“There you almost are.”
Music played on low in the kitchen, and she found her mother and sister sitting at the counter drinking hot chocolate.
“I guess I didn’t miss anything.”
“Oh, you look nice, baby! Sit down, have some hot chocolate before we get to work. We’ve still got time,” Elsie added before she popped up to pour Sloan chocolate from the red pot with its white snowflakes.
“Whipped cream or marshmallows?”
Because she honestly wanted neither, Sloan grinned. “Why not both?” And saw immediately she’s said the right thing, as pleasure lit her mother’s face.
“Your dad’ll be back before three—and might even beat some of the gang. So much to do over the holiday.”
“She’s high on holiday,” Drea commented.
“I am, and not ashamed.”
“I’m getting a little high myself. It smells amazing in here.”
“The bird’s doing his job. Now, I want the table set before the first arrival.”
“Which will be Gramma and Grandpa,” Drea put in.
“No question. And we’ll put out the nice cheese and charcuterie I have planned. Drea already made a pretty cheese ball.”