Where the Blame Lies - Mia Sheridan Page 0,41

courage to take a walk beyond her own property and introduce herself as she’d planned to do at some point. When she’d gotten the place cleaned up.

“I’m not either. Yet. I saw your flyer for the garage sale earlier this week and looked forward to meeting you and picking up a few things for our house.” She reached down and moved a lock of flaxen hair off her toddler’s forehead. The little boy was clinging to her leg and looking up at Josie shyly. He had his mother’s bright blue eyes. Josie’s heart gave a small empty thud and then constricted tightly with longing. Her own boy would be eight now. She’d missed this stage, and there was no way to ever get it back. Grief, stronger than she’d felt in a long while, gripped her and made her knees feel weak. “I’m recently divorced, so Milo and I here are sort of starting fresh, trying to make new memories.” She put her palm over her toddler’s ear not pressed against her thigh. “My ex is a d-bag,” she whispered.

“Oh, I’m . . . sorry about that,” Josie said.

But Rain smiled and shook her head. “Don’t be. We’re better off. But um”—she looked over Josie’s shoulder at the larger things she hadn’t yet moved into the garage—“I see you have a kitchen table and chairs, which is at the top of my priority list.”

“They’re yours if you want them,” Josie said, watching as Rain walked over to the pieces, looked at the stickers, and gave Josie a smile.

“Right in my price range,” she said. “It’s my lucky day.”

Jimmy approached them. “Need help lifting those into the van?” he asked, directing his question to Josie.

“That’d be great. Thanks,” she said.

Josie and Jimmy carried the pieces to the back of Rain’s van and loaded them inside as she stood back with Milo. She ended up purchasing several pots and pans, a set of glasses, and a standing lamp as well, and once she was all packed up, she put her little boy in his car seat and climbed up into the driver’s seat, rolling the window down. She reached over and wrote something on a scrap of paper from her console and handed it to Josie with a smile. “Like I said, we’re right up the road. My address and phone number are on there, if you need anything or feel like visiting.”

“That’s very nice of you,” Josie said. “Likewise on the visit.” She waved as the woman backed out and turned on the road, driving away. A raindrop hit Josie’s cheek and she walked toward the rest of the items that were still out, needing to get them back inside before the rain really started coming down.

And she supposed she’d need to set up her pots and pans under the inevitable leaks.

Despite the way the morning had started, she was grateful that she was ending the whole debacle on a positive note. All right, so the garage sale hadn’t failed by all measures, just most. The woman named Rainbow had brightened her day a smidge, and she’d met someone new who, for a few minutes, had made her feel normal, unbroken.

She’d take it.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

The elevator dinged and Zach stepped off, walking toward the door with the placard that read, Archibald Phillips, Financial Services. The luxurious office he stepped into was empty except for a receptionist sitting behind a wide stone reception desk. Soft music played through overhead speakers and a massive fish tank took up a wall on the opposite side of the room, the sound of the bubbling water adding to the peaceful ambiance. “Hello, sir, may I help you?”

“I’m here to see Mr. Phillips.”

“Do you have an appointment?”

Zach unclipped his badge and flashed it at the young woman with a black pixie cut, and eye makeup that swooped upward at the corners so she appeared catlike. “Detective Copeland. And no, I don’t have an appointment. But I’m hoping he can make time for me. It’s important.”

The woman, who seemed flustered, stood quickly. “Of course. I’ll just let him know you’re here.”

Zach gave her a tight smile and moved away from the desk as the woman’s heels sounded in the hallway beyond. He heard murmured voices and took the moment to look at the wall hangings. A diploma from UC, a few licenses related to financial planning. Zach turned when the heels sounded in the hallway again, this time accompanied by a second set of footsteps.

“Detective Copeland?” Archibald Phillips was

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