can be alone and quiet at Bluff House. It’s a big place. You’re not staying here by yourself until this whole goddamn mess is over.”
“This is my house.” Her eyes stung, and she wished she could blame it on the thinning, sluggish smoke. “I’m not letting some bastard drive me out of my house.”
“Then we’ll bunk here.”
“I don’t want you to bunk here.”
“If you don’t want us in, we’ll stay out here, but we stay.”
“Oh, for God’s sake.” She turned on her heel, strode back inside. She said nothing when he, with a slightly hesitant Barbie, followed her in.
Instead she went straight into the kitchen, poured herself a glass from an uncorked bottle of Shiraz.
“I know how to take care of myself.”
“No question. You know how to take care of yourself and everybody else. You don’t know how, apparently, to let someone take care of you. That’s conceit.”
She slapped the glass on the counter. “It’s independence and capability.”
“To a point, it is. Then it tips over into conceit, and stubbornness. You’ve tipped. This wasn’t like you had a leaky pipe, so you grabbed a wrench or called a plumber instead of the guy you’re sleeping with. Add the guy you’re sleeping with is involved with this whole clusterfuck. And he’s a lawyer.”
“I called a lawyer,” she said, then immediately wished she hadn’t.
“Great. Good.” Eli shoved his hands in his pockets, paced a couple of circles. “So you talked to the cops, a lawyer, your neighbors. Anybody else other than me, of course.”
She shook her head. “I didn’t want to spoil your family’s visit. It seemed pointless for you, or any of you, to worry.”
“You were worried.”
“I needed to . . . Yes, all right. Yes, I’ve been worried.”
“I need you to tell me everything that happened, in detail. I need you to tell me what you said to the police, what they said to you. Everything you can remember.”
“Because you’re a lawyer.”
The long, quiet look he sent her accomplished what words didn’t. It made her feel foolish. It made her feel wrong.
“Because we’re involved.” His tone, quiet as the look, finished the job. “Because this started with me or with Bluff House, or both. And because I’m a lawyer.”
“All right. I’ll pack first.” When he lifted his eyebrows, she shrugged. “It’s too cold for you to sleep outside. And I know he’s got no reason to come back here again. He has reasons to break into Bluff House again. Or it feels like it. So I’ll pack some things and go with you.”
Compromise? he wondered. Isn’t this what his grandmother had spoken of? That give-and-take on both sides to find a balance.
“Good.”
When she walked away, he picked up her unfinished wine. “We won that battle,” he told Barbie. “But I don’t think we’ve won the war. Yet.”
He let her have quiet on the drive down, and stayed downstairs when she went up to unpack. If she put her things in another bedroom, he’d deal with it later. For now, it was enough to know she was with him, and safe.
In the kitchen, he poked in the fridge, the freezer. Leftover ham, he calculated, and plenty of sides. Even he should be able to put a decent enough meal together.
By the time she came down, he had the Monday night hodgepodge meal set up in the breakfast area.
“You can fill me in while we eat.”
“All right.” She sat, oddly comforted when Barbie elected to curl up by her feet instead of Eli’s. “I’m sorry I made you feel I didn’t trust you. That wasn’t it.”
“It’s part of it, but we’ll get into that later. Tell me exactly what happened. Step by step.”
His response only dampened her already soggy mood. “I wanted to meditate,” she began, and told him everything in as precise a manner as she could.
“You never touched the gun?”
“No. It fell when I dropped the box, and I left it there.”
“As far as you know, they didn’t find any prints that shouldn’t have been there?”
“No, just the fibers.”
“And the police haven’t contacted you since?”
“Vinnie called me today, just to check in. He said they should have the ballistic results tomorrow or Wednesday, but more likely Wednesday.”
“What about the gun itself? Was it registered?”
“He didn’t tell me. I think he has to be careful what he says to me. But they know it wasn’t mine. I’ve never owned a gun. I’ve never even held a gun. And if it was the gun used to kill Kirby Duncan, they know I