A Good Day for Chardonnay (Sunshine Vicram #2) by Darynda Jones

She hugged him again and he kissed the top of her head. From there, she went from deputy to deputy giving out hugs and apologies like they were a politician’s promises. The imp even hugged Rojas.

He stepped to Sun when her parents took her, and said, “She’s good.”

“I know. Damn it.”

“Boss,” Salazar said from her computer. She was so quiet, Sun hadn’t even realized she was in. “I think I found something.”

She walked to her desk and leaned down.

The young deputy was reviewing the footage from the store again. She froze the frame right after Elliot showed his face. “We were all so focused on his identity that I think we missed something.” The others joined them. “Watch what he does before he walks out and gets into Seabright’s pickup.”

She rewound a few seconds and pressed play. Elliot returned a can to the shelf, then turned to the camera. “Sorry. A little farther back.” She rewound again and played the footage. That time Elliot picked up the can and seemed to put something under it before he put it back and turned to the camera.

“Wait,” Sun said. “Play that again.”

She went back even farther. Elliot raised something to the camera, turned and placed it on the shelf, then put the can over it. The picture was so grainy, it was hard to tell what it was.

“Holy crap, Salazar. Good eye.”

“Thanks, boss.”

“Is that a note?” Levi asked.

She turned to him. “Let’s find out.”

Along with Levi and Quincy, Sun hurried over to the store. On the way, Levi asked, “Who’s Carver?” He must’ve seen a text from the guy.

“Blind date.” She shoved the glass door open and hurried inside.

“Hey, Sheriff,” Lottie said.

“Hey, Lottie.” Sun chose to forgive the girl for the seizure she’d faked so that Levi could get away. “Have you seen this kid in here tonight?” She showed her a printout of Elliot.

The girl pursed her lips in thought. “I don’t think so.”

“Thanks. Let me know if you do?”

“Sure thing, Sheriff.” The girl turned to Levi and Quincy and changed the tone of her voice. “Hey, Mr. Ravinder. Hey, Quincy.”

Sun rolled her eyes and went to the canned goods aisle. Sure enough, Elliot had stashed a note underneath a can of tuna. She put on a pair of gloves and opened it. There, written in a kid’s scribble, was the word Sorry. She showed her cohorts the note.

“Sorry for what?” Levi asked.

Quincy shrugged. “Kids will sometimes take on the guilt for anything that goes wrong in their lives. Maybe he felt bad about Seabright being attacked.”

She shook her head. “This was about the same time the guy tried to stab him, but Elliot couldn’t have seen that from this vantage. And it was hours before Seabright was attacked at the bar.”

“You’re right,” he said, frowning. “It’s like he knew something bad was about to happen.”

Levi scrubbed the non-banged-up side of his face and strode out the door.

What would a twelve-year-old kid who, for all intents and purposes, had been abducted years ago have to be sorry about? And why, if he’d been coming into town with Seabright all those years, would he signal them now? And in such an obscure way? How did he know they would be looking at the surveillance footage? Unless …

Unless he was somehow involved.





17


Many have eaten here. Few have died.

—SIGN IN THE KITCHEN OF SUNSHINE VICRAM




There were three reasons Auri adored her grandparents. Well, there were a million, but three main ones. One, they loved her. Two, that love was unconditional, no matter how bad she screwed up. And three, they made certain she felt that love to the marrow of her bones.

Even if she was never allowed to see Sybil again after introducing her to a life of crime and degradation. Even if Cruz never wanted to see her again after turning him into one of Del Sol’s most wanted. Even if her mother lost her job and never spoke to her again and they ended up living on the streets of Del Sol, rifling through their neighbors’ trash cans for food, she knew she would always have her grandparents. And that they would feed her.

“How about some pizza?” her grandpa asked after escorting her into the house.

“I don’t deserve pizza,” she said.

His expression turned pensive as he nodded. “You’re right. How about I order it with extra pineapple as punishment.”

She laughed and hugged them both before heading to her room, where she overheard him ordering. Pepperoni with extra pepperoni.

Oh, yeah. They loved her.

She texted Sybil, expecting a furious text from her mother ordering her to never go near her child again. Instead, Sybil texted back. Auri! What happened? What did your mom do? Are you grounded for life? For all of eternity? Are we going to prison? Wait, let me call.

She laughed and picked up mid-ring. “Hey.”

“Hey, Auri. What’s the verdict?”

“Still waiting on the sentence hearing, but so far it looks like prison will not be in our future. Mrs. Fairborn isn’t going to press charges.”

“Oh, thank God.”

“You know what this means, right?”

After a minute, Sybil guessed, “We don’t have to learn how to make weapons out of our toothbrushes?”