At breakfast the next morning, Lando wandered into the kitchen only to find a stressed-out Lianne standing at the coffee pot. “How’d you sleep?”
“Oh. Hi. Sorry. My mind was a million miles away.”
“At our house, we call that waking up.” After filling his coffee mug, he looked across the counter and decided to put her mind at ease. “Look, it’s okay to be worried about Ritter until he’s out of the area. It wouldn’t be normal if you weren’t concerned. But he’s not going anywhere. He won’t escape if that’s what you’re worried about. He’s staying put until either the US Marshals assume custody for transport or the Portland police do it. Either way, one of the agencies right now is working on the paperwork.”
“What’s taking them so long?”
“It’s not like Ritter is a serial killer. He’s not the biggest catch from the ten most wanted list. He’s a petty criminal that nobody cares about except the state of Oregon. It takes time to process his extradition. There are steps that the County prosecutor has to follow.”
“How long do you think it’ll take?”
“Monday. He’ll be out of here by Monday.”
Lianne huffed out a sigh. “I suppose that seems reasonable enough.”
“Look, I’ll try to speed up the process as much as I can. I’ll make some calls when I get to the station and see where his paperwork stands. Not to get you out of here, but to make sure you’re at peace about heading home when you do go.”
“Thanks for that.”
“No problem.”
Gemma staggered in, already fully dressed. She had on a pair of skinny jeans paired with a black turtleneck sweater and a pair of square-toed black boots. “Oh, good. You made coffee. I could kiss you.”
Lianne smiled and pushed the creamer closer to the coffee pot. “You look good. Meeting?”
“Nope. But I decided not to wait for Friday to go casual. I had a shipment of chocolate delivered yesterday that needs unpacking. And that chore tends to get messy. This time, I’m prepared to get dirty.” Gemma studied her friend, who was decked out in a similar outfit—jeans and an oatmeal-colored sweater. “How’d you sleep? Was everything okay? I forgot to turn up the heater before I went to bed. I hope you didn’t freeze. That guest room can be drafty this time of year.”
“I felt like I had fifty blankets on me,” Lianne said. “Seriously, you left like four on the bench at the foot of the bed. How could I possibly get cold?”
When the doorbell rang, Gemma fidgeted with the creamer before turning to Lando.
“I’ll get it,” he volunteered, pushing off the counter to head out to the hallway. Through the peephole, he spotted his brother standing on the stoop. After flinging open the door, Lando stepped outside. Lowering his voice, he whispered, “Lianne’s here.”
“Yeah. I know. Your wife texted me as much about twenty minutes ago. I think there’s been a covert operation to get me here. Well, it worked. I need to talk to Lianne.”
Lando cocked his head, acknowledging the dark circles under Luke’s eyes. “Did you sleep at all?”
“I managed a few hours. Are you going to let me in or not?”
“Couldn’t this wait until she gets to work?”
“Knock it off,” Luke snapped, pushing past Lando. “I’m in no mood to put up with your crap this morning.” Storming up to the door, he marched inside and down the hallway on a mission. “Lianne! Lianne, where are you? We need to talk.”
Lianne rounded the corner. “About what?”
“I’m sick of this. I miss you. I want you to come home—our home. I’m sorry. I acted like an idiot. This is all my fault.”
Lianne’s breath hitched. She started to sob. “No. It’s all my fault. Everything. I should’ve told you about Kirk. I shouldn’t have let you think I could be with anyone else but you.”
Luke rushed toward her, taking her in his arms. He brushed her hair back and took her chin. “I love you, Lianne. That’s the truth of it. I never wanted to go fishing. I still don’t. Marry me. Let’s do it today, tomorrow, whenever you say.”
“You mean that?”
“I do.”
A breathless Lianne turned in his arms. “I don’t care when. I just want you. If you want time to think…”
“No. I don’t need time. I’ll marry you today, right now.”
Lianne sputtered with laughter. “We’ll get there. I have to go to work and so do you. What about Sunday afternoon?”