Page 193 of Lorenzo

The drinks.

The snacks.

The toothbrush upstairs.

The fact that I walked through his front door without feeling like a guest.

None of it happened all at once.

It just happened.

And apparently, I was fine with it until I noticed.

***

After dinner, we move into the family room with coffee and dessert.

Mocha has not moved from his bed except to lift his head when we come in. He watches Lorenzo set a tray on the low table in front of the sofa, apparently decides there is nothing for him, and puts his head back down.

The fire is already burning.

I sit at one end of the sofa with my coffee while Lorenzo takes the other. There are two small plates on the table between us, but I barely look at mine.

My folder is finally back in my possession.

I set my coffee down and open it.

“All right,” I say. “Now we can work.”

Lorenzo settles back against the sofa.

“I was beginning to think you had forgotten why you came.”

“I was being held hostage by chicken.”

“You ate quite willingly.”

“Under protest.”

“You had seconds.”

I ignore that and pull out the first group of papers.

“I went back through everything connected to Rachel. It took a while. She isn’t very organized.”

His expression changes immediately.

The easy amusement disappears.

“What did you find?”

“Money.”

I hand him the first page.

“Not much at first. That was the problem. Rachel’s finances looked exactly like what you would expect from someone living the way she was living. Irregular deposits, irregular expenses, nothing particularly interesting.”

Lorenzo looks down at the page.