Page 230 of Things We Left Behind

“It was only a little attack,” she said with a shrug. “More of a warning than anything else.”

“And you didn’t tell me?” I said, pointing at Nash.

“Still no face punching until after breakfast,” he reminded me.

“Leave his face alone,” Sloane said. “I asked him not to tell you.”

“Technically, she blackmailed me into it. She said if I told you, she’d stick her nose into the investigation and make herself even more of a target,” Nash said.

“Let’s not forget that it’s none of your business,” Sloane pointed out irritably.

“You are always my business. You always have been, and you always will be. The only difference is now you know it,” I said icily.

Sloane snorted and looked at Lina. “I’m the one who gets a head wound in a burning building, and he ends up with the hallucinations.”

“We’ll discuss this later,” I assured Nash.

“Oh, I have no doubt.”

“Let’s get back to the arson,” Lina suggested with feigned cheer.

“Right. The back door was jimmied open, and the inspector found two gas cans under what used to be the pillow fort in the children’s section. Grave corroborated that the first floor smelled like gasoline when he got inside looking for you. The alarm system, sprinkler system, and phone lines had all been disabled.”

“Did he know she was inside?” I demanded.

Nash leveled me with a look. “We don’t know that yet. But her Jeep was in the parking lot.”

I would find the man responsible, and I would personally destroy him.

“We haven’t identified any persons of interest yet, but it’s early in the investigation,” he continued, cutting another bite from his plate.

The doorbell rang again.

“Stay here,” I ordered when Sloane made a move to stand.

I stalked from the dining room into the living room and yanked the door open. Knox and Naomi stood on the front porch holding a carrier of to-­go cups and a bag of bagels.

“What the fuck are you wearing, man?” Knox asked, staring at my pants.

Naomi elbowed him. “Hi. We thought Sloane might want some breakfast.”

“Might as well join the party,” I said, hooking a thumb in the direction of the dining room.

There were hugs and platitudes and more than one skeptical look thrown in my direction.

“Can we get back to the topic at hand?” I demanded.

Knox smirked. “Now who’s the sweatpants-­wearing whiner?”

“How long is it going to take to rebuild?” Sloane asked.

“Levi from Benderson Builders already stopped by this morning,” Nash explained.

“I talked to him too. Levi thinks he can get the work done in three or four months. He’s willing to start now so you don’t have to wait out the inevitable fucking around of the insurance company,” Knox said.

“You talked to him?” Nash repeated.

Knox shrugged. “Building’s got my fuckin’ name on it. I’m invested.”