On Fire. Carla Neggers

Matt. Don’t tell me what I know and don’t know.”

      She could see the flash of anger, the tightening of the muscles in his arms. They knew exactly what buttons to push with each other, good, bad and indifferent. As if he were counting to ten to keep from exploding, he walked over to her board and eyed her painting. She wished she’d covered it, but the paint was still wet. He’d taken art history classes as an undergraduate at Harvard. He’d been to most of the world’s great museums. A damned art snob.

      He glanced back at her. “It’s nice to see you painting again.”

      Another gush of annoyance. She was in just the mood to take exception to everything he said. But if she let him get to her, she risked forgetting she was hiding twins. She’d end up throwing off her blanket and having at him, and he’d know. She had no idea how he’d react, and she didn’t want to find out. Not today. Not on his terms.

      “I’ve been up to Emile’s,” he said. “I’ve talked to the police. Sig, if you have any idea where he’s gone—”

      “I don’t.” She hadn’t seen her grandfather in months. She shared her mother’s concern he’d gone right off the deep end—but she refused to give Matt the satisfaction of driving the wedge between her and Emile even deeper. “If I did, I wouldn’t tell you. I’d tell the police. This is their problem, not yours. They’re not going to go off half-cocked and stick their nose where it doesn’t belong.”

      He spun around on his heels, eyes narrowed, thin, regal mouth clamped shut. He took a calming breath. Grangers didn’t lose control. “I didn’t come here to argue with you.”

      “Sam Cassain’s death isn’t your concern. Or mine. Let the police do their job.”

      “We were on Mount Desert Island last week. Caroline, Abigail, her kids, myself.” He moved closer, his gaze probing, as if he could see right through her blanket to the two babies growing inside her. “Armistead and your father were there, too. And your sister.”

      “I know. So what? It’s got nothing to do with me.”

      “Sam Cassain showed up.”

      “What?” She almost popped to her feet, but caught herself in time. “Why? What did he want? Did you see him? Riley didn’t say a word—”

      “She didn’t see him. My point is that the police understandably want to know how he ended up dead on Labreque Island.” Matt was silent a moment, all his churning emotions back in check, under tight Granger wrap. “He had the good sense to resign after the Encounter. It would have been easier on everyone if your father and sister had followed his lead, too.”

      “And quit their jobs? That’s absurd. They didn’t do anything wrong. For God’s sake, Riley nearly died.”