Page 33 of Happily Never After

She was halfway through decorating a cover sheet for Murder Binder 3.0 when a knock sounded on the hotel door.

Mindy hopped off the bed. “It’s probably Nicole. Please don’t mace her.”

Claire stood behind Mindy as she opened the door, Taser trained at the hallway. Nicole stepped through a second later, tugging a rolling suitcase behind her.

“I brought snacks!” She hefted a reusable shopping bag onto the second bed. Doritos and a jar of Nutella tumbled out. “Don’t judge me. It’s the only thing I can eat right now that doesn’t make me projectile vomit.”

Claire hugged her and went back to the whiteboard. “Did you bring your laptop?”

“Obviously.” Nicole slung a backpack off her shoulder and unzipped it. A computer emerged, and she stationed herself at the table by the window. “Where do we start?”

“I need you to make a spreadsheet of all the chapters of ESA. Start with the ones in LA.”

“Got it.” Nicole slid on a pair of glasses and tucked her legs underneath her.

“And what are you doing, boss?” Mindy peered over the edge of her screen.

Claire picked up her computer and stationed herself across from Nicole. “I’m going to comb through his social media and find places he’s visited. Maybe he has an aunt in Nebraska or a vacation home in Aspen. He’s out there somewhere.”

“Let’s nail this bastard.” Nicole smashed a fist on the table, then promptly turned a shade of green and sprinted into the bathroom.

CHAPTER TWELVE

To Do:

- Future fundraisers for shelter?

- New meditation mantra

- Track down ESA

Claire slidher keys out of the ignition and rested her forehead on her steering wheel. It had been a very long couple of days while the police and FBI had swept the house. A headache brewed behind her temples, fueled by the sleepless nights spent combing through Professor Taylor’s online history. The man had spent a shocking amount of time playing Farmville in the 2010s. Beyond his penchant for flash games and annoying habit of checking in at Whole Foods, they had gleaned little from his discarded social media. He could be anywhere.

The ESA chapter hunt had also been a bit of a bust. While there were still cached links sprinkled across the internet, there were no rosters, no social media pages, no way to contact the organization. Everything had seemingly gone underground. Allthey had was a list of colleges that once had chapters. What were they going to do, stake them all out and wait for a brother to sneak back in and grab his hastily discarded PlayStation?

Eventually, the three of them had run out of steam and devolved into lying in bed eating ice cream and watching rom-coms. They had a brainstorming session for the gala this morning, so the weekend hadn’t been a complete loss. She hadn’t had a chance to write all the ideas down before she left, so she had dictated into her phone the entire drive home. There were spreadsheets and presentations to make, but she was desperately ready to give Luke a hug and be stampeded by four-legged fur babies.

She pulled her suitcase out of the trunk and trudged to the front door. Her hand was raised to tap a code into the keypad on the door when she froze. Luke, Rosie, and Winston were all cuddled together on the couch in the living room.

Her heart lurched. They had forgotten all about her. The dogs were bonding with Daddy Luke, but Winston probably barely even remembered her. She added “bond with dogs” to her ever-growing To Do list and tapped her code into the deadbolt. It beeped angrily at her.

That was strange. She must have entered it wrong. She typed it again, more slowly this time. 1-2-2-3. Rosie’s birthday. Her little almost Christmas miracle. The pad beeped at her again and flashed red. Maybe she had messed up the sequence. It had been a long weekend.

She entered the code one more time, and the pin pad flashed solid red. An alarm wailed inside like a banshee on Red Bull. Rosie and Winston jerked awake. Rosie immediately barked and sprinted from one side of the house to the other and then ran back down the hallway. Winston tumbled to the floor and Claire waved. Oh, wait. He was blind.

Winston took several steps away from the couch, shuddered, and heaved his tiny body. A puddle of vomit appeared on the floor.

Luke, who appeared to have been in a deep sleep, jumped up like he had been plunged into icy water. He pulled a baseball bat from underneath the couch and stomped toward the front door.

Claire waved at him from the porch, and his expression changed from panic to sleepy, tousled joy. At that moment, his right foot landed in the fresh puddle of dog vomit, and he slid like a figure skater for two whole feet. The hem of his sweatpants tripped him up, and he crashed ass-over-elbow to the floor. Luckily, Winston had vacated the premises after panic-barfing.

Claire gasped and pulled on the door handle. “Are you okay?” she called through the glass.

Luke lay on the floor and groaned. Great, she had only been home for thirty seconds and already she had broken her boyfriend. What else could go wrong today? Would Rachel bring a caravan full of ESA groupies for a late Easter dinner? Would her bank burn down? Maybe Alice would decide to move back to Pennsylvania permanently.

After a minute, Luke crawled to his feet and disengaged the alarm. He opened the door. “Welcome home,” he said, a streak of dog vomit on his sweatpants and hair sticking straight up.

She rushed into his arms. “I missed you.”

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