Match Made in Court. Janice Johnson Kay

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СКАЧАТЬ her because she’d provoked him? Or even to convince himself it had happened the way he was trying to tell police, that Tess was ultimately to blame because she’d somehow slammed her own head into the table?

      Despite having been related to him by marriage for eight years now, Matt had no idea how Finn really thought. Despite Tess’s exasperation, they’d both resisted playing a round of golf together or even sitting down with a beer. Eventually, he’d thought, she’d become resigned to the fact that her husband and her brother would never be friends without really understanding how deep the chasm was.

      Matt bought a Seattle Times in front of the station and took it to his car. He’d look at online classifieds later, when he got to his hotel, but he could start with what was in the newspaper.

      Sitting in the parking garage, he worked his way through the rental section, making a few appointments to check out places.

      By dinnertime, he’d seen a dozen, but nothing that struck him as perfect. He wished he had a better idea how important staying in the same school was to Hanna. Did she have good friends? He’d have to ask her tonight.

      At five-fifteen, he called Linnea’s and a woman picked up. “Hello?”

      “This is Matt Laughlin.” He’d pulled to the curb and set the emergency brake, even though he hadn’t expected her to be home quite yet.

      “Oh,” she said softly. “You didn’t call back last night.”

      “I’d had a long flight. I conked out and didn’t hear the phone ring.”

      “Oh,” she said again. “Matt, I’m so sorry about Tess.”

      He forced out a thank-you. “How is Hanna handling this?”

      There was a small silence. He wished he could see her face. “I’m not sure. She’s so quiet. I’ve been trying to keep her busy, even though I don’t know whether that’s the best thing to do or not. Maybe I should be encouraging her to grieve. I just don’t know,” she said again.

      “Busy sounds smart to me.”

      “Do you think so?”

      For God’s sake, wasn’t that what he’d just said? He reached up and kneaded the back of his neck, where tension had gathered. “Yeah. I do.” He paused. “I’d like to see her.”

      “I assumed you would.” He could all but feel her gathering herself. “I’m going to ask you not to … to say anything negative about her father. Not right now. I … haven’t even told her he’s been arrested.”

      “How the hell are you explaining his absence, then?” Oh, shit. “She isn’t seeing him, is she?”

      “No.” The single word was firm enough that he momentarily pulled the phone away from his ear and gazed at it in surprise. Interesting. Maybe Delaney was right that she didn’t much like her big brother. “Finn hasn’t even called,” she said. “Mom tells me he’s out on bail. He must know he isn’t in any state right now to be comforting Hanna.”

      Uh-huh. What father wouldn’t want to be the one to explain to his small daughter what happened to Mommy? To hold her and dry her tears and do his damnedest to make her world feel safe again? Matt couldn’t imagine that not being his first priority.

      “Maybe,” he suggested, every word dropping with a distinct clunk, “the bastard has enough conscience that he can’t look Hanna in the eye.”

      Crap, he thought immediately. That wasn’t the way to assure Linnea’s cooperation.

      But after a very long silence, she said only, “I doubt he’s figured out what to say to her.”

      Huh. Did that mean she believed her brother was guilty?

      “Have you had dinner yet?” he asked. “Can I take you and Hanna out?”

      The offer was an impulse; he wanted to spend time with Hanna, not Linnea. But it made sense. His niece hadn’t seen him in almost a year. Despite their e-mails and phone calls, they always had to ease into their friendship. Besides … he found himself more curious than he’d expected to be about this sister he’d scarcely noticed in the past. What was the saying? Still waters run deep. Did hers, or was she the mouse he’d guessed her to be?

      After another discernible pause, she said stiffly, “Yes, if you mean it. I haven’t started dinner yet, and I know Hanna would love to see you.”

      “Have you told her I called last night?”

      “No, I wanted to talk to you first.”

      Tone silky, Matt said, “To make sure I wouldn’t rant about her daddy.”

      “Um … something like that.” She sounded embarrassed, but had enough spine to add, “I don’t really know you.”

      “No. We never bothered, did we?”

      “You didn’t seem very interested.”

      So. She had teeth. Maybe saying we never bothered wasn’t quite accurate. He’d automatically extended his dislike of Finn to Finn’s family. So no—he hadn’t bothered.

      “You may have guessed that your brother and I didn’t much care for each other.”

      She didn’t comment.

      After a moment, Matt said, “Is this too early? Can I come by now?”

      “Now is fine. We eat early. Um … do you need directions?”

      “I got them off the Internet last night.” He couldn’t even remember why he’d had her address. Presumably Tess had given it to him, God knew why.

      “All right,” Linnea said. “We’ll be ready.”

      The drive took him longer than he expected. It was interesting, he thought, that she’d chosen to live so far from either her brother or parents, without having actually left Seattle. Maybe deliberate, maybe a job had determined where she rented or bought. He knew from what Tess had said that she worked at a library. Obviously, from her phone message, she had some kind of petsitting service, too.

      Her house turned out to be a tiny, midcentury bungalow in a blue-collar neighborhood in West Seattle. It was on a fairly steep side street, the single-car garage essentially in the basement beneath the house. He pulled to the curb, cranked the wheels and set the emergency brake before turning off the engine. He got out and surveyed Linnea Sorensen’s tidy home. Rented, he presumed, but she did maintain it. Leaves on the Japanese maple in front had mostly fallen and been raked up. Grass was sodden but carefully mowed. The house had been painted a warm chestnut-brown and trimmed with deep rose, a surprisingly warm and cheerful combination. The front door was seafoam-green.

      No doorbell, he discovered, but a shiny brass knocker made a deep thudding sound when he lifted and dropped it.

      The door opened immediately and he had a moment of sharp surprise. His first sight of the woman who’d answered the door disconcerted and unsettled him; funny, she didn’t look like he remembered. It hadn’t been that long since he’d seen her.

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