Page 32 of Lethal Deceit

When she doesn’t say anything and just stares at an Art Deco painting on the wall, I blow out a breath, staring at the leftover food, now cold on the table. I need to stay occupied until she goes to bed, so I skirt the coffee table and start clearing it up, putting lids on containers of food we can eat later.

I’ve already hidden the knives in the kitchen, but I should probably do a search for any other weapons just in case. If I’d been thinking straight, I would have done so before now.

I stack the plates one on top of another, carry them over to the sink, and scrape off the scraps.

“So domesticated,” she says.

I ignore her and carry on clearing the table, until I realize she could be helping out. “Get the rest. We don’t have a dishwasher. I’ll wash; you dry.”

Her eyes widen in surprise, and she chokes out a laugh. “You can play house all you want, but leave me out of it.”

I stalk across the room, pluck the remote out of her hand, switch it to a praise and worship channel, turn the volume up, and tuck the remote into my back pocket. “Then you lose your TV privileges,” I say.

Turning on my heel, I return to the sink, fairly confident she’ll cave. I angle my body so I can watch her and fill the sink with hot soapy water. Next meal, I’ll ask Hightower for something that doesn’t require any cleanup.

I’m whistling along as familiar songs play over the TV, and Samantha groans and throws up her hands. “Anything to make it stop,” she says.

Hiding a smile, I plunge my hands into the soapy water and scrub the plates until they shine. Beside me, Samantha grabs a dish towel and silently fumes as she picks up the items I’ve washed, dries them, and stacks them neatly.

The second the final dish is dried, she extends her hand. “I’ve done my chores. Can I watch TV now?”

Smirking at her sarcasm, I yank the remote out of my pocket and slap it into her palm. “Knock yourself out.”

She slinks away, grabs her water bottle, and sits back in her chair.

Well, this is going to be fun.

Since I’m on guard duty, I sit down, pull out my phone, and tap out a quick message to Brooke just in case she’s wondering where I am. Her reply comes in before too long, and she’s not impressed at my disappearing act.

Mom and Dad are worried. So am I.

Sorry. I’m safe. And you can quit hassling your contacts. We’ve found her.

You what? When? Is THAT why you’ve been so hard to get hold of?

I glance at Samantha, thinking as I tap out my reply.

I’ll explain when I can. But I’m going to be tied up for a few days… at least.

As Samantha yawns and turns the channel to a reality show, I grimace. “No way. Find something else.”

Her eyes narrow, but she doesn’t say a word, just randomly presses buttons.

WhenThe Beverly Hillbilliescomes on, I hold up my hand. “Leave it on this.”

Her eyes snap to the screen, disgust evident in her lack of inflection. “It’s in black and white.”

“So? It’s a classic.”

She doesn’t look convinced.

“Didn’t you watch it as a kid?” I ask.

Her blank stare is as confounding as her shoulder shrug.

“You don’t know?”

Anger flickers across her face. “I don’t remember.”

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