Murder in the Medina

Finley could tell that Whitt was still processing everything, and that David and Max were pieces that seemed out of place. Whitt took the snifter from Max and took a sip. She still said nothing. David didn’t try to talk to her. He just knelt beside her, looking at her with a lopsided grin.

“Where’d you come from?” she finally asked.

“Georgia. I was going to surprise you, but I guess the surprise was on me,” David replied. He slid his arm under her shoulders and pulled her to him. Whitt nestled into his shoulder and stayed there.

Finley picked her cup up from the coffee table and moved into the kitchen. She was tired again. So tired. Max slipped behind her, took her cup, and placed it on the counter. He put his arm around her waist and let her rest her head on his broad chest. “She’s home. She’s okay. And you’re okay, too,” he murmured. She relaxed into his arms.

It was hard rapping on the door that broke her quiet. Max released her and headed into the hall. The door opened and Finley heard voices. She recognized the other voice besides Max and moved swiftly to stand beside her sister. He isn’t going to get her again.

Max came into the living room, followed by Inspector Evans and the man in the tan suit. Finley looked for something with which to defend herself. Why wasn’t Max reacting? He couldn’t be in on it too, could he? She was confused again. Her head ached and she didn’t know whether she was going to be able to control the fear.

“Misses Blake, are you both all right? We’ve been trying to follow you, but you got past us,” Inspector Evans explained. “Have you been hurt?”

Finley heard but didn’t understand. “You’ve been following us?” She finally articulated the question. Whitt sat staring at the man in the tan suit.

“Does he work with you?” Whitt asked, pointing with her snifter at the man who had now entered the room.

“Yes, he’s one of my men. I told him to follow you, but then he lost you,” Evans indicated. “And when he saw these men put you in the car, he called me, and we followed them here.”

“Well, you both should be fired!” Whitt said languidly, her eyes closed. “You’re like firefighters coming after the house has burned down. We don’t need you now.” She was clearly not amused. If she had had the energy to banish them from the house, she would have. Mama would have.