Point of Danger (Triple Threat #1) - Irene Hannon Page 0,88

sniffed. She should have known this wouldn’t end well.

Nothing in her life had ever been a fairy tale.

“Are you okay?”

At the question, she blinked and straightened up. One of the nurses had stopped beside her, faint furrows denting her brow.

Okay?

Not even close.

But she couldn’t admit that to a stranger.

“Yes. Just . . . um . . . thinking about everything that has to get done.”

The woman offered her a sympathetic nod. “I hear you. Illness and accidents can overwhelm families. If you need any assistance, our social services department can recommend several resources.”

“I appreciate that, but I’ll be fine.”

Meg waited until the woman walked away. Then, straightening her shoulders and lifting her chin, she continued down the hall toward the elevator.

She would be fine. This setback wasn’t going to destroy her. She wouldn’t let it.

Maybe she wasn’t as smart or pretty or dynamic as Eve Reilly, but watching her high school acquaintance in action these past few months—and especially during the recent trauma—had been inspiring.

If you approached life with a can-do attitude, stuck with your principles, and stood up for yourself and what you believed in, life could be good.

Beginning today, she was going to follow in Eve’s footsteps.

And thanks to the radio station job, she had the financial wherewithal to walk away from Steve—and find her own happy ending.

Eve stood on tiptoe and felt around on the top shelf of her kitchen cabinet. Huffed out a breath.

Where had she put that box of little-used spices? Her dolmathes wouldn’t be the same without the distinctive hint of dill that gave her mother’s recipe its extra zing.

Between a blog post that was fighting her every step of the way, an air conditioner that was making odd noises, and now a key spice gone missing, this Tuesday had been a bust.

She stretched further—only to jerk back as the pulsing beat of “I Won’t Back Down” erupted from her cell on the counter.

Sweet mercy!

Grabbing the edge of the cabinet to steady herself, she coaxed her lungs to kick back in. If Brent and his cohorts didn’t wrap up this case soon, her nerves would be shot.

She picked up the phone, skimmed the screen, and greeted Grace.

“Am I interrupting anything?” Her sister seemed a tad distracted.

“No. I’m on a spice search.”

“A what?”

“Spice search. I’m trying to find my dill for Mom’s dolmathes recipe. I haven’t made that one in a while, and I thought I’d whip up a batch for us when you and Cate come to dinner tomorrow.”

Two seconds ticked by. “I didn’t know we were invited for dinner tomorrow.”

“You weren’t. But I talked to Cate earlier, and she mentioned she might drop by. She also said you were going to be in town for a forensic seminar. Rather than have you two show up with food in hand again, I decided to feed you this visit.”

“Is your detective going to be there too?” Her sister was fully engaged in the conversation now.

“No. Why would he be?”

“Well, he’s doing chauffeur duty for you. It would be a hospitable gesture to invite him to join us.”

And subject him to the third degree from her sisters?

Not a chance.

“Considerate of you to think of that—but plan on a threesome. So what’s up?”

As if she had to ask.

Her two sisters had been tag-teaming phone calls since she’d told them on Sunday about the twist her case had taken. While neither had seemed concerned about the threat to themselves, they had not been thrilled to hear that there could be a second person targeting her.

But two calls a day from each of them?

Overkill.

Now another in-person visit.

Much as she loved them, they had their own lives—and impinging on their free time wasn’t fair.

“I had kind of a gruesome case today—but I doubt you want to hear about it.” Humor lurked in Grace’s inflection.

Eve put her hand on her stomach. “Gruesome is more than sufficient detail. Anything else going on?”

“Nope. How is it on your end?” Her sister’s casual tone didn’t fool her one bit.

“If you’re asking whether I’ve received any more communication from my harasser, the answer is no.”

“Any updates from your detective since we last talked?”

“He isn’t my detective.” Yet. “And I promised during our last chat to let you know if there were any developments. That was a mere seven hours ago, by the way.”

“I know—but I like to hear your voice. You have an issue with that?”

Eve leaned back against the counter. “No. But you and Cate have full plates. You don’t have to keep checking