“Exactly. And what happened?”

“The guy came home. I busted him. End of story.”

“No, before that.”

“You tried to poison me.”

“No, after that.” And I didn’t try to poison him. I just wanted to know if my cup was poisoned. It tasted … poisony. Turned out, I just didn’t rinse well. So much for my theory that my landlord at the time was trying to kill me.

He drew out his exhalation to make his point. A long, needless point. “Fine. I get it.”

“No, what happened?”

“I went into that diner to get a cup of coffee.”

“No. You went into that diner to try to get a date with one of the waitresses.”

“I know the story.”

“And why was I really in the same neighborhood as you?”

“Because you were staking out that diner.”

“I was staking out that waitress. And why was I doing that?”

“Charles—”

I shoved an index finger over his mouth.

He glared.

“Why was I doing that?”

“Because you figured out she was spiking men’s coffees with eyedrops.”

“Yes. She had this weird vendetta thing going on and was purposely making men sick. I saved your ass. You could have died.”

“I wouldn’t have died.”

“You could have gone into a coma like poor Mrs. Verdean’s husband.”

“So, where are you going with this?”

“You made a mistake hitting on that woman when your gut told you she was about as stable as a three-legged chair. We all make mistakes.”

“What Marika did wasn’t a mistake. It was quite intentional.”

“I get it. I do. I just hope you give her a second chance is all. Especially now that she broke up with her boyfriend.”

“She broke up with him?”

I nodded, knowing that would get his attention.

“I don’t know, Charles. Chicks are crazy.”

“Duh. That doesn’t mean you can’t keep trying.”

“Maybe it could work. I mean, I’ve always wanted a family. And Zaire is great. Marika has her moments, too.”

“That’s the spirit,” I said, punching his arm. “So, did you get it?”

“Is that the only reason you’re talking to me?”

It wasn’t, but I couldn’t let him know that I genuinely cared about him. “Of course.”

His mouth widened into a grin that made his silvery eyes sparkle. “It’s behind that weird box.” He nodded toward the potato bin.

“Sweet!” I scrambled up to check out my new toy. “I’ve always wanted a sledgehammer.”

At about half my height, the handle wasn’t bad. The head of the sledgehammer was about the size of a Big Gulp. All in all, it seemed pretty nonthreatening.

I took the handle and tried to pick it up, ignoring the skiptracer at the table. His snickers would not deter me from my task.

“Fine,” I said, dragging it from behind the potato bin and across the floor.

“You aren’t going to kill anyone with that, are you?”

“That’s certainly not the plan,” I said, huffing and puffing as it scraped along the tile with an awful, horror-movielike sound.

“You realize this floor is over a hundred years old.”

I felt bad about the floor. I really did, but I couldn’t pick the stupid thing up. “It’s much heavier than it looks.”

“Would you like some help?”

“Nope,” I said, winded. I’d traveled about two feet. “I got this.”

There was a tiny room off the kitchen with a wooden closet of some kind. Nobody knew what it was, even Sister Mary Elizabeth. It could have been a confessional, for all I knew. Either way, no matter what we did, we could not get the door open. Normally, that wasn’t a big deal. But the more I thought about it, the more it ate at me. There could be anything in that closet. There could be a dead body. Or a mountain of gold. Or a staircase to a secret passageway.

After months of trying to pry it open, I couldn’t take it anymore. This was my last hope. That door was coming open if I had to tear down the wall around it.

Garrett got up and followed me to the room that we had set up as the laundry room. Though I’d refused his help physically, he decided to help in other ways. He watched and chuckled and assured me I was batshit every so often. So, there was that.

After an eternity, we got to the door, a thick wooden thing set in the middle of a wall in the small room. The wall butted up against the room that Cookie and I had set up as our office, but we’d stepped the rooms off. There was a good five feet of space in between that wall and the office wall. So what was there?

I was about to find out.

As Garrett watched from the doorway, swigging his beer pretty as you please, I pulled with all my might to try to at least get the sledgehammer off the ground. I wasn’t weak. I could lift stuff. Heavy stuff. Well, heavy-ish. This thing was insane.

I set it back down just as Reyes walked up. He wore the same doubt-ridden grin as Garrett.

“Gonna get it open, are you?” Reyes asked, wiping his hands on a towel.

“Yes, I am.” I set the hammer down to take a break. “We need to know what’s in there. There could be anything. I mean, why is it locked?” I examined the door for the thousandth time. “No, how is it locked? There’s no lock.” I pointed to emphasize the absurdity of it all.

The door was massive. In a convent with regular doors and regular walls, why was this door—the same door that was impenetrable—so thick? So sturdy? Reyes had even tried to see into the closet incorporeally. He couldn’t get in!

“I mean, aren’t you even curious? What kind of room is impenetrable even to something that is incorporeal?”

I struggled to lift the sledgehammer again, but now I had an even bigger audience.

“She at it again?” Osh asked.

“Hardheaded as the day is long,” Reyes said.

My frustration rose to new heights. “Okay, Mr. Smarty Pants, if you aren’t going to help, what were you talking to Angel about?”

His gaze narrowed. “What do you mean?”

“In that field today. I saw you.”

He straightened. “What were you doing out there?”

“I was following that sweet departed nun. She’s been trying to show me something and then someone pushed me and I almost fell to my death and were you there? No.”

A blast of heat hit me then, and I couldn’t tell if he was angry with me or because someone had pushed me.

“What do you mean, someone pushed you?”

Oh, thank God.

“Who pushed you?”

“Why were you talking to Angel?”

“Is that what happened to you?” He took my arm and indicated a scrape down the back of it, his touch scalding.

“Probably.” I shook off his hold and gripped the sledgehammer again. “And I have no idea who it was. I smelled something weird, though.” I straightened and thought about it. “Like lavender or something.” I bent to my task again.

He stepped to me, curled his fingers under my chin, and lifted my face to his. “Who was it?” The moment he stepped forward, I felt consumed by fire, like I’d been swallowed by a blazing inferno.

“What were you talking to Angel about?” When he didn’t answer yet again, I stepped out of his grasp and pointed in the general direction of the living room. “Go stand in the corner with Mr. Wong.”

Cookie had joined us then, doing her best to look over Osh’s shoulder. “Is she trying it again?”

Reyes turned from me then as though frustrated. “Why is he here?”

“Mr. Wong? I have no idea.” But I stopped to wonder as Osh and Reyes eyed each other. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

“Why is such a powerful being in the house?” Osh asked.

“No. Well, yes—that, too—but I was thinking he needed to get out more. Maybe meet a girl. Try the singles scene. He seems awfully lonely.”

I pulled on the hammer again, raising it about two inches off the floor, and swung with all my might. It tapped lightly on the door, the sound barely audible above the sound of the spin cycle.

Then someone else joined us. Gemma stood behind Garrett, but I didn’t think the high-pitched screech that nigh drew blood from my ears was coming from her. Nope. It came from none other than my stepmother.