Page 44 of The Familiar Stranger

“You don’t have to tell me you’re in Savannah because I knew that’s just where you’d be. You and that sidekick of yours.”

Maddie snickered and leaned in, saying, “Hey, now. I can hear you and your big voice. Sidekick, huh?”

Given she’d gotten involved in our call, I put it on speaker.

“Uh, hey, there, Maddie,” Cade said. “Sorry about that. You’re not a sidekick, and you know it. But I worry … It drives me nuts sometimes, these murders you two are always stumblin’ on, even when you’re not supposed to be working. It’s just … well, it’s unbelievable.”

Maddie went to respond, and I raised a finger, stopping her.

“You’re right,” I said. “I should have let you know what was going on. You know I can handle myself, and I’m not alone, so stop worrying, please?”

“Sloane, when it comes to you darlin,’ I’ll always worry.”

“We’re safe and sound at the Marshall House. I’m sorry I didn’t call before. You know how investigations make you lose track of time sometimes.”

“Yeah, I do,” he said with a sigh. I could hear the crunch of gravel underfoot. “I’m comin’ on down there. Three heads are better than two— Oh, what the heck is going on … oh, hell no!”

“Cade?” I said his name twice more, then looked at the phone. Still connected. “Cade, are you okay? Talk to me.”

Maddie and I exchanged concerned glances, waiting for him to respond.

“My tires are slashed,” he said with a heavy breath. “I ain’t goin’ anywhere for a while, looks like. Hang on.”

The thought of his tires beingslashedin a quiet ice-fishing community … well, it seemed unusual.

“Did you drive over a nail maybe?” I asked.

No response.

Maddie tried next.

“Is the rest of your truck okay?”

No response.

A feeling of dread rush through me. “Areyouokay?”

In the background, I could hear Cade cursing, then some other men’s voices. It sounded like they were walking around, inspecting the damage.

I heard a man say, “Hold tight. I’ll call you a tow, buddy.”

Cade thanked the man, then came back to us. “I heard your questions. No, it wasn’t a nail. The front and back tires on the driver’s side were cut with a sharp object. Big cuts, not little notches or nicks. Yes, the rest of the truck is okay. Yes, I’m okay, except for the fact I’m pissed off by the whole thing. By the time I get down there, you?—”

“Will already have the situation resolved,” I said, sounding more assured than I felt. Truth was, I was relieved he wasn’t here. I loved the man through and through, but he could be too protective at times. Him being here would put a rock in my shoe, and I had no desire to be hobbled right now.

“How did it go with Andi?” he asked.

“She’s much calmer now.” My comment had a smidge of truth, if at all. But a smidge counted in times like these.

I finished with, “Take care of your truck and get on back to New Orleans. I might even beat you there.”

“Yep, will do. In the meantime, don’t do anything crazy, all right?”

Nothing I did was crazy, per se.

Crazy was in the eye of the beholder.

I thought back to what he’d said about always worrying when it came to me.

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