Midnight Betrayal (Midnight #3)(41)

“He says they’re waiting for the DNA test results.” Conor turned down a narrow side street and navigated the sports car around a fallen garbage can. “I’ve seen them following me.” Conor assumed they were always nearby, even if he couldn’t see them.

“The test results will prove you’re innocent,” Pat said.

Conor didn’t respond. The long hair they’d found in his apartment was Zoe’s, but the blood wasn’t hers. How would that play out?

He was glad to pull up in front of Pat and Leena’s small piece of urban bliss. Like the family it housed, the brick row home exuded chaos and contentedness. The narrow front yard held a driveway barely big enough for a minivan and an equal-size strip of grass. A Big Wheel was upended on the walk, its tires in the air like a dog that wanted its belly rubbed.

“We’re here.” Thank God. Conor parked at the curb.

Pat sobered. “Leena’s going to be pissed.”

“Probably,” Conor said just to make Pat sweat and hopefully take his mind off Conor’s life. Pat might have a foot of height and a hundred pounds on his wife, but Leena ran the show. No question. Though she wouldn’t give his brother a hard time. Not tonight. She knew how deeply Jayne’s news had affected him. If Pat were sober, he’d know Leena had his back when it mattered, but those shots of scotch had warped his perspective, as liquor tended to do.

Pat wove his way up the walk. Following him, Conor grabbed the plastic trike, righted it, and set it on the porch under the eave. Leena already had the door open. A toy guitar dangled from her fingertips, and wet patches covered the front of her shorts and T-shirt. Bath time had been recently completed, and she was still in the clutter-clearing phase of the evening that followed what she called lockdown rather than bedtime.

She propped a hand on her hip and gave her husband a mock admonishment. “Celebrate much?”

Hoisting himself off the white wrought-iron railing, Pat mumbled something that sounded like “love you” and leaned over to give his wife a kiss.

“Love you too. Get inside before you fall down.” Leena waved her hand in front of her face. “Oh geez, Conor, you let him drink scotch?”

“Sorry, Leena.” Conor steered Pat over the threshold and into the living room. Pat took three crooked steps across the Berber and stretched out on the living room sofa as if he couldn’t possibly walk another step.

Conor gave his sister-in-law a peck on the cheek. “He’s all yours.”

“Gee, thanks.” Grinning, Leena closed the front door. Strands of her dark hair had escaped its ponytail. A damp lock fell over her eye, and she pushed it behind her ear. A wiggly mass of chocolate-colored fur, their new Labrador puppy, yapped and wagged from the other side of a gate across the doorway to the kitchen.

“How’s Killer?”

“He’s a good boy. Thankfully, crayons aren’t toxic.” Leena went to the gate and scratched the pup’s head. “Are you sure you don’t want a puppy? There are still two left.”

“Positive.” Conor thought of the dog currently sleeping in Louisa’s bed. Kirra should stay there. “My apartment’s too small, and I’m never in it.”

“A dog would be good company. You spend too much time alone.”

“Alone? I’m never alone. I’m always in the bar.”

“You know what I mean.”

A giggle drifted down the stairwell that ran along the living room wall. Someone was still up.

Leena dropped the plastic guitar into an open bin in the corner, walked to the base of the steps, and cupped a hand around her mouth. “Don’t make me come up there.”

Silence.

Yep. No question. Leena was the boss.

“You need help getting him upstairs?”

“Like we could get him up those steps.” Leena laughed. “He’s fine where he is.” She had a point. The stairwell was narrow and steep, barely enough room for Pat when he was steady on his feet. “Tomorrow’s backache will remind him why he isn’t much of a drinker,” Leena said without the faintest trace of pity.

“No doubt.”

“The kids are obviously still awake if you want to pop up and say good night.” She pulled an afghan off the back of the couch and tucked it around her husband. Her hand gave his square jaw a quick, loving stroke. A snore ripped through the room.

Normally, Conor would like nothing better than a round of hugs from his niece and nephews, but tonight the thought of their energetic affection hollowed out his chest. Why? What had changed? Why did Jayne’s pregnancy make Conor nostalgic? Did it have something to do with Louisa?

The only thing he knew for certain tonight was that he was too tired and too strung out about the missing girl and the police investigation to analyze his love life.

“I really have to get back to the bar.” Conor turned toward the door, then paused, his gaze drifting toward his brother. “Is Pat OK?”

“Yeah, why?”

“He got all choked up at Jayne’s news.”

“He’s happy, but at the same time, the news made him feel older, less needed, like that chapter in his life is closed. You and Pat spent the last two decades acting more like parents than siblings.” Leena’s dark eyes zeroed in on Conor’s like X-ray vision. “How are you dealing with Jayne’s news? You raised her as much as Pat did.”