Page 27 of Insidious Threats
“Mommy, don’t you want hot cocoa?” Finn insisted, eyeing her mug with suspicion.
“No, lovebug. I had a rich dessert with Maisy and Naya to celebrate. No more sweets for me tonight.”
“To celebrate what?” Finn wanted to know.
“Maisy is amillionairenow, Finny,” Fiona explained.
His eyes widened. “She could buy Park Place!”
Fiona nodded sagely. “Or a giraffe. A real one.”
Sasha choked on her tea. “I don’t think Maisy’s going to invest in real estate or exotic animals. She’ll probably use the money for her new podcasting venture.”
Fiona rolled her eyes. “Booooring.Iwould get a giraffe.”
“I’d buy a railroad line,” Finn said, combining his Monopoly dreams with his well-established love of trains.
Sasha waited for it. Finn didn’t disappoint.
He went on, “And I would have lots of money left over to give away to people who need it.”
“What would you do with a million dollars, Daddy?”
Connelly considered Fiona’s question while he topped his drink with a fluffy mountain of whipped cream. “I would buy us a castle.”
“A castle?” Fiona breathed.
“Yep.”
“With a throne room and a garden and space for a giraffe,” Finn imagined.
Connelly’s eyes met Sasha’s, and she read his meaning.And a moat, and a castle gate, and battlements with a keep. An impenetrable castle.
Later, after the twins had bathed and brushed their teeth, Sasha read a chapter from their current book, and then tucked them into their respective beds with a kiss. Fiona pulled her unicorn eye mask down over her eyes and rolled onto her stomach. Across the hall, Finn turned on the light that projected constellations onto his ceiling and gazed up at Cassiopeia.
She changed into a pair of yoga pants and an oversized sweatshirt, finishing the outfit with a pair of slouchy, fuzzy socks. She caught a glimpse of herself in the bedroom mirror and shook her head. She looked like a twelve-year-old girl. And Naya wanted her to come to work like this.
When she crept downstairs, the house was quiet. Mocha’s leash was missing from its spot near the door. She frowned. Usually, Mocha’s last walk was after dinner. Before bed, they let the dog out in the fenced backyard to do whatever needed to be done.
She headed to the kitchen to clean up the remnants of the hot chocolate party. Every time the wind blew through the trees outside, her attention was pulled to the window over the sink. The rising tension wasn’t helped by the presence of the cat, who’d taken up sentry duty on the windowsill and was staring unblinkingly out the same window, tail swishing like a metronome.
Java’s picking up on your fear. Animals do that. And children, too. So you need to get a grip.
She was wiping down the counters when Java jumped to the floor and darted to the kitchen door, ears pointed, purring loudly.
A moment later, a key scraped in the lock, and Connelly and Mocha trouped inside, windblown and shivering.
“The wind’s picked up,” he told her as he unleashed the dog, who headed straight for the warm bed on the floor in front of the living room fireplace with Java trotting along behind. Mocha was no dummy.
Connelly knocked a dusting of snow off his boots, then removed them and his bright red parka. He put the boots on the shelf under the bench alongside the wall and hung the parka from the hook above.
“Don’t you want to put those in the closet?”
He shook his head. “No. I might take one more walk tonight.”
She eyed him closely. “You can’t stay up all night and patrol the alley behind the house.”
“Why don’t you fill me in on this threat, and then we’ll decide how to handle it?”
