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Raleigh was up and pulling on his Levi’s. He glanced at me, said, “I overslept.”

I shoved my hair out of my eyes. “Okay.”

“I’ll call you this evening. If Malcolm didn’t kill Astrid or Peyton, someone sure as hell did. Maybe, once you’ve had time to think about it, you’ll have some ideas.”

“If you’re thinking Dax—”

“I’m still thinking Malcolm,” Raleigh interrupted. “But I’ve been wrong before. So, I’d like to hear your thoughts.”

It felt like a concession. “Right—” A yawn cut me off. “Wait. No. Come to think of it. Tonight is Bredahl’s holiday party. Malcolm really wants me to go.”

Raleigh shrugged into his shirt and began to do up the buttons. “Okay. Would you do me a favor? Don’t drive with Malcolm. Don’t go up to the mansion for drinks. Stay clear of Malcolm as much as you can without looking like you’re trying to avoid him. Until we can figure this out?”

“I have to call Triple A and get that tire changed.”

“Did you hear me, Caz? Try to avoid being alone with Malcolm. Also, I think you need to get the locks changed. Today.”

I looked up. Raleigh’s expression was somber.

“Yes. I heard. I think you arewayoff track.” I sighed. “But yes, I’ll try to tactfully avoid Malcolm. I don’t know how long that’s going to work because he’s going to think it’s a little peculiar if I refuse to have Christmas dinner with him.”

“Just give me a couple of days to follow up a few leads.”

“Oka-ay.” It came out less of anokayand more of aI guess-you-think-you-know-what-you’re-doing.

Raleigh made a faint sound of amusement, but what he said was, “And you’ll talk to Dax? If hewasinvolved with your sister, he has to have some insight into what she was thinking, what was happening in her life.”

I nodded. “I’ll phone him as soon as I deal with the Range Rover.”

“Also—”

I laughed. Not that it was all that funny. Raleigh smiled uncertainly. “Also, if you could try to think back to the day Peyton was killed.”

“Jesus.”I groaned. “Like we haven’t been over that ground enough?”

“We’ve been over what you did that day. But try to remember what Astrid did. What Peyton did. What Malcolm did. Was there something going on at the bakery? Maybe there’s something we missed.”

“Oh, do youreallythink so?” I said sarcastically.

He grimaced, but didn’t respond. He sat on the side of the bed to put his shoes and socks on. I studied the curved line of his back, the nape of his neck where his dark hair curled just a little against his collar. His hair grew really fast.

It was very, very odd that we were having this conversation. That we were talking at all. That we had spent the night in each other’s arms. So much was still unresolved but, for me, maybe the biggest question was answered.

I brushed my hand down his back, smoothing the wrinkles out of his white shirt. He glanced over his shoulder, straightened, took my hand. His gray eyes were serious, steady, as they met mine. But then he didn’t say anything.

“What?” I asked uncertainly.

“I don’t know.”

“That’s not helping.”

He squeezed my hand comfortingly. “I’m hoping that last night meant there’s maybe still a chance for us. Is there?”

I hesitated, said, “I…hope so.”

His gaze softened, he leaned over and kissed me. It was the lightest kiss, like the flick of a butterfly’s wing, the tenderest brush of mouth-on-mouth, and then he was up and off the bed, heading for the door.

“I’ll call you,” he said.