CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE
The Wrong CurlsJackson took a call as he finished working his way through the loaf of bread. Kit confiscated the toaster as he turned to answer the jaunty ring tone. “Delaney. What have you got?” She raised an eyebrow at his curt salutation, wondering if she’d get away with responding to her callers with such a crisp reply. As he stepped into the lounge and out of earshot, she loaded the dishwasher with his plate to halt the feeding frenzy laying waste to her shelf of the fridge.
Her phone buzzed on the counter and she washed her hands and lifted it to her ear. “Maguire. What have you got?” The charger cord stretched taut.
“Nothing!” Marian’s voice rose to an instant squeak. “I’ve got nothing.”
Kit realised her new technique wouldn’t wash with her mother and moderated
