Page 108 of The Body in the Backyard

“Uh, yes. That’s me.”

“Here. New members get a balloon on their first visit,” Kiki said and thrust the balloon at her.

“Thanks.”

“I’m going to go check on Mom,” Wander said, wisely reading the situation and floating off.

“So you were actually married to Griffin Gentry?” Kiki asked with a sympathetic smile.

“Unfortunately, yes,” Riley admitted.

“I bet you have your share of stories,” Kiki ventured.

“I guess we all do.” Riley gestured around at the women still gathered.

“I just want you to know that I’m here for you. If you ever need someone to listen, someone to show up with a tarp, a shovel, and no questions, oranythingin between, you can count on me,” Kiki offered. “We’re a full-service support group, if you know what I mean.”

Oh boy.“Um, thanks?”

Kiki grinned. “I’m totally joking.” Then she shook her head and mouthed,No, I’m not,before waving at another one of the group members. “Joy! Wait up. I have an update for you.” With a wink at Riley, she disappeared into the crowd.

Riley found her way back to her mother and sister. Blossom was packing up her tarot deck.

“This couldn’t have been an easy evening for you,” Wander predicted.

Riley shrugged. “I’ve been through worse.” For instance, that time she’d gotten shot by the murderous mayor during a foot race through downtown Harrisburg…or that time she married Griffin. The evening had made her feel both better about herself for not being the only one to fall for the slippery eel of a man and sad that Griffin was still causing pain everywhere he went.

“You know, after listening to all those women’s stories, it made me think that maybe your father isn’t a complete jerk with no empathy whatsoever,” Blossom admitted.

“Let’s go get a drink. And not some spiked homemade kombucha,” Riley said before her mother could suggest it.

Blossom slung her arms over both daughters’ shoulders and pulled them in. “Yay! Girls’ night with my girls.”

26

6:59 a.m. Sunday, November 3

“Come on, Riley. Squeeze those beautiful thighs,” Nick ordered.

“I. Hate. You,” she said through gritted teeth as she powered through the last three reps. Her quads were quaking. Her hamstrings were trembling. Whatever the musculature of her outer hips was called, it was screaming at her. She was red-faced and bathed in sweat. Worst of all, she was still half-asleep.

At this ungodly hour, Nick’s gym was full of glistening, awake people who were tackling free weights and machines with a grim determination.

“That’s my girl,” he said, holding up a hand for a high five that she ignored. “Hey, you’re the one who insists on being put in danger on a weekly basis. This is how you get in fighting shape.”

Riley rolled off the machine and slumped to the floor, hiding her face under an already-damp sweat towel.

“All right. Fine. You win. I don’t want to be in danger. You can lock me in a closet. I surrender,” she muttered.

Nick tugged the towel off her face and gave her the full Santiago dimple charm. “Too late for that. We’ve already established that closets aren’t safe. So until we have a cool sex room accessible only via retinal scanner, you’re in danger boot camp.”

“What did you do to Riley?” Weber asked, peering down at her.

“I made her get out of bed,” Nick said and hauled her to her feet.

“What are you doing here?” she grumbled at the chipper homicide detective.

Weber hefted a chunky grayish smoothie and leaned against the machine. “Hangover finally broke. And this is the best way for us to meet without anyone on my end getting suspicious. What have you got for me?”