Page 154 of Liar's Point

Nicole crutched up to Emmet’s front door just as it opened.

Calvin stepped out with his phone pressed to his ear, followed by Kyle. Both firefighters wore chunky rubber boots and had soot on their faces, as though they’d just come from a callout.

“Yeah, I’m sure,” Calvin said into the phone. “Really. I just talked to him, Mom.” He looked at his friend and shook his head. “Yeah, I will. Bye.”

He slipped the phone into the pocket of his work pants and turned to Nicole.

“Is he here?” she asked.

“Yeah, he just got home.”

She glanced at Kyle. Both he and Calvin reeked of smoke.

“Where are you coming from?” she asked.

“Warehouse fire near the marina,” Kyle said. “Owen called us as we were wrapping things up.”

Nicole’s chest tightened as she glanced at Calvin again. “How is he?”

“Looks okay. But fair warning—he’s in a shit mood.”

She stepped around him.

“Hey, Nicole.”

She looked over her shoulder, and Calvin was watching her with a curious expression, as though suddenly realizing that this was the second time he’d bumped into her at his brother’s apartment in less than a week, and there might be something going on.

“Don’t let him scare you away,” he said.

She nodded and reached for the door.

Clothes littered the darkened foyer—socks, a T-shirt, Emmet’s mud-caked boots. She crutched over the threshold and shut the door behind her. Emmet’s empty holster sat on the breakfast bar, alongside his backup pistol and a pair of six-round mags.

Nicole’s stomach tightened. The empty holster confirmed that he’d discharged his duty weapon today, and it was now evidence in an internal investigation.

“Fuck!”

She glanced at the hallway. A sliver of yellow light spilled from the bathroom. She followed the sound of curses.

“Cal? Can you gimme a hand here?”

She paused in the hall and pushed open the door.

Emmet sat on the side of the tub in a pair of gym shorts, no shirt. The top of his left arm was wrapped in a bandage, and he had his bare foot propped on his knee.

“Fuck.” He glanced up and looked surprised. “Hey. I thought you were Calvin.”

She moved into the bathroom. “What happened to your leg?”

“Nothing.” He stood up. “Just some glass, I think.”

He stepped around her and opened a cabinet. She looked him over as he rummaged through a shoebox filled with first aid supplies.

Muttering a curse, he shoved the box back into the cabinet and stalked out of the room.

She stared at the empty doorway. Then she followed him into the kitchen, where he was opening and closing drawers. He grabbed a pair of tweezers and sat down on a bar stool.

“The scene still active?” He glanced up from his leg, and she noticed the thin cut there.

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