Page 133 of It Runs in the Family

I couldn’t hold back my tears, and I threw my arms around her. She hugged me back, tight.

“Thank you, Deanna,” I whispered in her ear. “I’m so sorry.”

“I miss her,” she said as she pulled back, then turned to face the end of the aisle again. There was anger on her face, but it quickly morphed into shock.

Rhonda was marching down the aisle, carrying an open bag of flour, a trail spilling behind her as she charged toward us.

Boone quickly grabbed my arm and hauled me away from Deanna, placing himself between me and the angry woman headed our way.

“I’ve had enough of your bullshit!” Rhonda screamed, reaching into the bag and throwing a handful of flour at Deanna.

It hit her smack in the face and covered the front of her apron.

Deanna blinked, her dark brown eyes peering out through her white-coated face as she stared at her boss in shock.

I gasped, covering my mouth with my hand.

Then she let out a guttural war cry, grabbed a cereal box off the shelf, and threw it at her boss. It bounced off Rhonda’s head, and she didn’t even flinch. The box landed on the floor and split open, cereal spilling all over the grungy vinyl.

Boone and I watched in stunned silence, but then he took a step back, pushing me farther from the fight. He looked torn between jumping into the fray to stop them or staying back.

A small crowd of customers had gathered behind us, staring at the spectacle. One of the bystanders, a middle-aged man, made a move toward the women, presumably to try to break them up, but he slipped on the cereal and crashed into a shelf holding bags of chips. They rained onto the floor, a couple of bags bursting open and scattering chips everywhere.

Boone snagged my hand. As he pulled me through the door, I caught one last glimpse—Deanna had broken free and was dumping a box of pancake mix on top of Rhonda’s head like a snow globe.

“I don’t feel right leavin’ Deanna like that,” I said as he tugged me to the truck, still holding my hand.

“You know a sheriff’s deputy is gonna show up,” he said as he opened my door. “Do you want to be there when they do?”

That was an easy answer. “No.”

He shut my door and walked around to his, picking up where he’d left off as he opened it and got in. “Me either. Besides, Deanna’s gonna be goin’ home soon, and I want to be out of there before she gets home.”

“You want to go inside her house?”

“She gave us express permission, Iris.” He shot me a serious look. “This gives us a chance to go through Rebecca’s things and see if there’s anything that will help us.”

“It feels wrong,” I said, my chest tight.

He turned to me and took my hand. “I can go in by myself, and you can wait in the car.”

I didn’t answer, not wanting to commit one way or the other, because while it felt wrong, I knew we needed to follow through. Especially since Deanna had given us permission.

“I’ll look up her address,” I said as I reached for my phone. It took me less than a minute. I’d been to Deanna’s house about three years ago, when she’d hosted a wedding shower for a mutual friend. It was that particular friend’s fourth wedding in six years, and I’d told Deanna I was pretty sure she kept getting married to get more household appliances. Deanna hadn’t disagreed.

I told Boone the address and also how to get there. When we reached her street, he drove past the one-story house and parked several houses down.

He turned off the engine and turned to me. “Do you want to wait in here?”

I shook my head. “No. I’m goin’ with you.”

I was in this, all the way. Until the bitter end.

Chapter Thirty-Two

We walked down the sidewalk toward Deanna’s house. I started to hurry, but Boone snagged my hand and twined our fingers together.

“We’re a couple out for a walk,” he said with a smile as he studied me. “If we hurry, we’ll look suspicious.”