He’d invaded Bluff House. Everyone in Whiskey Beach knew of the Landons, so buying a house here was a deliberate act. One taken for proximity to Bluff House, he was certain of it.
He carried the files into the library, sat at the old desk with them and his legal pad for his own notes.
And went to work.
When Abra came in shortly after five, he was still at it, and the dog who greeted her at the door stared at her with pleading eyes.
“Eli.”
“Huh?” Blinking, he looked around, frowned. “You’re back.”
“Yes, I’m back, and actually a little late.” She stepped up to the desk, scanned the piles of papers, the thick ream of notes, and picked up the two empty bottles. “A two–Mountain Dew session.”
“I’ll get those.”
“Got them. Did you have lunch?”
“Ah . . .”
“Did you take the dog out?”
“Oh.” He slid a glance down to the sad-eyed Barbie. “I got caught up.”
“Two things. One, I’m not going to let you neglect yourself again, skipping meals, subsisting on nuclear-yellow soft drinks and coffee. And two, you’re not allowed to neglect a dog who depends on you.”
“You’re right. I was busy. I’ll take her out in a minute.”
In answer, Abra simply turned and walked out, the dog at her heels.
“Shit.” He looked at his papers, his progress, raked his hands through his hair.
He hadn’t asked for the dog, had he? But he’d taken the dog, so that was that. Rising, he made his way to the kitchen, found it empty, with Abra’s enormous bag on the counter. A glance out the window showed him she’d taken the dog out herself, and they were halfway down the beach steps.
“No need to be pissy about it,” he muttered, and grabbed a jacket and Barbie’s favored ball on the way out.
By the time he reached them, woman and dog were walking briskly along the shoreline.
“I got caught up,” he repeated.
“Obviously.”
“Look, I got a lot of new information from the investigator. It’s important.”
“So is the health and well-being of your dog, not to mention your own.”
“I just forgot she was there. She’s so damn polite.” Because it sounded like an accusation, he sent the dog a silent apology. “I’ll make it up to her. She likes to chase the ball. See?” He unhooked the leash. “Go for it, Barbie!” And heaved the ball into the water.
The dog flew after it, on wings of joy.
“See? She forgives me.”
“She’s a dog. She’ll forgive almost anything.” Abra stepped nimbly out of range when the very wet Barbie returned to drop the ball on the sand.
Eli picked it up, threw it again.
“Would you have remembered to feed her? Her water dish was empty.”
“Damn it.” Okay, he sucked, right at the moment. “It won’t happen again. I was—”
“Caught up,” she finished. “So you forgot to water and walk your dog, forgot to eat. I imagine you didn’t write. Instead, you spent all your time and energy on murders and treasure.”
And damned if he’d apologize for that part. “I need answers, Abra. I thought you wanted them, too.”
“I do.” She searched for calm as he thrilled the dog with another toss. “I do, Eli, but not at the expense of you, not if it costs you what you’ve rebuilt in yourself.”
“That’s not what this is. It’s one afternoon, for Christ’s sake. One where all kinds of doors opened up into areas I need to explore. Because rebuilding isn’t enough if you don’t know.”
“I understand. I do. And maybe I’m overreacting, except about the dog, because there’s just no excuse.”
“How crappy do you want me to feel?”
She considered it, considered him. Considered Barbie. “Pretty crappy about the dog.”
“Mission accomplished.”
With a sigh, she slipped out of her shoes, rolled her pants to her knees to wade into the surf.
“I care about you. So much. It’s a problem for me, Eli, caring so much for you.”
“Why?”
“It’s easier just to live my life. You’ve had experience there,” she added, pushing her hair out of her face when the wind carried it. “It’s easier just to live your life than to take that step again, that risk again. And it’s scary when you can’t seem to stop yourself from taking the step. I can’t seem to stop myself.”
The turn of conversation left him baffled, and a little uneasy. “You matter to me more than I thought anyone would, or could, again. It is a little scary.”