Page 128 of The Body in the Backyard
“Griffin, you just faced down death again. Tell me what you were thinking when you were scrambling out of the pocket,” Tyrell said, still standing on his chair.
“This interview is over,” Nick said, grabbing Griffin by the lapel and drawing his gun. “Let’s go.”
30
4:58 p.m. Sunday, November 3
Riley walked into Nick’s office with Burt on her heels. She found her boyfriend irritably rearranging suspect photos on his whiteboard. “I told you. He’s a raving narcissist who’s built an entire interior world where other people don’t matter. He’s not trying to piss you off. He just legitimately doesn’t realize you exist as anything other than a servant,” she said, continuing the conversation they’d begun upstairs after the latest attempt on Griffin’s life.
“None of that makes me feel any less murdery,” Nick complained, glaring at the small bandage on her forehead. Burt snuffled over to the trash can and stuck his head inside.
“Yeah, well, I’m not too happy about it either,” she promised, securing an earring to her lobe.
“How’s your head?”
She shrugged. “It’s fine. I’m just feeling lucky that Bella’s nails didn’t go lower. I could have lost an eye.”
“Listen, Thorn. I’ve put a lot of thought into this. How about I just murder him?” he said.
Riley put her hands on her hips. “Then we won’t get paid.”
“But maybe the first murderer will pay us for doing their job for them?”
“I’m not sure that’s the way this works,” she said.
The desk phone rang shrilly. Burt popped his head up with a sticky note stuck to his muzzle and gave awoof.
Nick lifted the receiver, slammed it down, unplugged the phone, and threw it in a drawer. Since the live broadcast, their house and office phones had been ringing off the hook with media and relatives wanting exclusive interviews.
“We don’t have to take the girls out,” Riley reminded him as he yanked a blank piece of paper out of the printer tray. “They’d be just as happy here with almond butter sandwiches and extra screen time.”
On the wordsandwiches,Burt bolted out of the room and headed in the direction of the kitchen.
“No way,” Nick said, scrawling a circle on the paper. “Your nieces already like Gabe better than me. Tonight’s my chance to win back some ground.”
“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but shouldn’t we be keeping a close eye on Griffin?”
“Josie has him, Bella, and the dog in a safe house. Weber checked in on them, and Josie’s already demanded a raise twice. They’re fine. We’re going out,” he said, slapping the paper to the top of the whiteboard.
“Is that a stick figure?” she asked peering at the drawing.
“No, it’s a suspect.”
He didn’t sound very open to artistic criticism, so Riley wisely changed tactics. “Who is it?”
“Facial Hair Guy.” He pointed to the jagged squiggle in the middle of the circle.
“Who?”
Nick sighed and reached for her. “You know what? Gentry has stolen enough time from us. We have the next few hours to be a normal hot couple.”
“Well, youdolook good in those jeans you found on the floor,” Riley mused, looping her arms around his neck.
“And you look good in those clothes I’m going to take off you at the first possible opportunity.”
The brush of his lips against her neck had her shivering in anticipation. “I like that you like taking clothes off me.”
“I’m really good at it. Fast too. Maybe the girls will be late and I can lick?—”
