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CHAPTER ELEVEN

It was entirely coincidental that I called Teague right after that.

“You sound tired,” I said to his thanks after I reported Murph was comfortably settled.

“Yup.”

“And not done for the day,” I added, hearing background noises on his end that placed him at the sheriff’s department.

“Not even close.”

“Will you come here when you’re done?”

“Not sure I’ll get out of here at all tonight. But if I do, I’ll go to my place. Don’t want to wake you up.”

I swallowed disappointment.

But he moved on with a question. “Anything to tell me?”

I thought for a moment. “Not yet.”

Clara might not like that answer, but it worked for me.

The silence that followed felt comfortable. Like breathing together, even over the phone, brought us closer.

“Sheila?”

“Uh-huh?”

“When you said we need to talk and we need some time for it...”

I breathed out through my nose. “Yeah. I get it. Not until this case is done.”

He chuckled, though that sounded tired, too. “I suppose your understanding that is one benefit of you and Clara... doing what you do.”

Very diplomatic, when he no doubt wanted to say something along the lines of nosing around or butting in .

“I’ll come by in the morning with some breakfast if I can get away,” he said. “If I can’t, I’ll message you.”

****

I tossed and turned a while.

When I got out of bed and started downstairs, I didn’t have a plan. Heck, I didn’t consciously know why I was going downstairs.

From her martyred sigh, neither did Gracie, though she gamely followed me. Murph, on the other hand, opened one eye, then opted to remain sacked out on his bed.

In the kitchen, I flipped on a low light under the cabinet that held the microwave.

Then I went to the utility drawer.

That’s when I knew what I’d come downstairs for.

I pulled out a spare key from a small envelope and put it on a simple wire circle from the same envelope. I wrote a sequence of numbers on a piece of paper and stabbed through it with the end of the key ring’s wire.

Now I could sleep.

Right after I let my dog out.

From her point of view, I’d gotten her out of her cozy bed to make a useless trip to the kitchen — it didn’t even include food — so it was her responsibility to get something out of this.