Page 54 of The Defiant Curse

“Bubbling?”

Michael nodded.

“And now, the painting falls off the rail, the painting of Ceit, who LOOKS like Elizabeth, or vice versa? This can’t be good. I don’t think the calm is going to last long,” he admitted. “I’m beginning to think what we believed to be the final, insignificant part of the mystery is actually more than that.”

Oh, Jesus.

“So, it’s not done?”

His gut said no. It looked as if his husband had jinxed them by saying it was misfortunate that Elizabeth hadn’t been here to help.

Instead, he just shook his head.

Well, shit.

Graham had been enjoying the quiet around here, and the satisfaction of thinking they solved the entire thing, minus the painting.

“What do we do?” he asked.

Honestly, Michael didn’t know. That was a damn good question.

“Let’s wait and see what happens, but I don’t think it’s a coincidence that she shows up, and it kicks back up. Something is way off here, and I have a sick feeling we’re going to have to deal with that too.”

Graham closed his eyes.

“And here, Laddie, I was getting accustomed to not having to be worried about the shit hitting the fan.”

Him too.

“We have to figure this out. If she finds out it’s about to blow up, and start again, she might leave. She isn’t safe out there, and if she’s distracted…”

Graham got it.

“So, I guess this leg of the journey is on us.”

Yeah, he believed so.

Then again, what choice did they have to handle this? It was their home, after all.

“Let’s go keep an eye on her,” Michael stated. “Just in case.”

That worked for him.

Following out of the room, they found Elizabeth at the island, and she was having cookies and milk. Joining her, Michael poured himself a glass and ate a cookie.

“I’m going to get fat,” Elizabeth stated, eating another cookie. “These are good.”

Graham smiled.

Until they figured out what all of this meant, or if it meant anything at all, they were going to fake it until they made it. The less they let on with her, the better.

They were worried about her mental status after that last brutal case. It was best not to burden her with this and distract her. Hopefully, that would work.

“Well, Mom, consider yourself being fed cookies. I make a mean Cranachan, and a shortbread you’ll die for.”

Michael stared at him like he was out of his mind.

Seriously? he mouthed. THAT’S THE PHRASE?