Hidden in the Blood: A Novel of the Terribly Acronymed Detective Club (Book 5)

Chapter Forty-Seven: Al, Sunday

When Al woke that morning, he was startled to discover, by the light of the alarm clock on the nightstand, that Lauren was in bed with Rachel and him, and that he was sandwiched in between them. The sensation was not as pleasurable as he would have thought. The bed was a queen and too small for three people to lie comfortably in it, even if Lauren was smaller than Al and Rachel and seemed fast asleep on the tiny sliver of mattress she'd been able to commandeer. The situation might have been fine if they were using the bed for other purposes, but he was only able to sleep if he was able to roll from his one side to his other, finding the most comfortable position.

He checked the alarm clock and saw it was only five in the morning, far too early to get up, but he couldn't go back to sleep now because it was too tight. He'd woken because he needed to go to the bathroom, but he wondered if his body had sensed the tight squeeze before his brain had and told him to investigate the change in circumstances.

He sat up as gently as he could so as not to wake the other two, curled his legs up and crawled slowly to the foot of the bed so he could climb off and use the bathroom. Lauren had left the bedroom door open, so he wouldn't make any noise that way. Once he relieved himself, he crept back into the bedroom and found that Lauren had rolled herself into being spooned against Rachel, who'd unconsciously thrown an arm over her. He wondered if, in her sleep, Rachel perceived it was Lauren against her, or Al.

He smiled and lowered himself into the space vacated by Lauren. It was too tight for him to go back to sleep, but he contented himself with watching Lauren sleep, her face, with her lips slightly parted, so like a child's when it was at peace. When was the last time the three of them were snuggled up like this? Months? Before Joe had returned, Lauren had behaved and only let Rachel into her bed at night, leaving Al alone in the basement on a thin air mattress. He'd understood, but it had been lonely. After last night and now this morning, he felt as cozy and content as he had back then, knowing the two loves of his life were here with him again at last, fast asleep.

Knowing that made him realize there was another love of his (past) life out there, alone in bearing the responsibility of informing her children that their father was dead, and he felt sorry for her and wished there was something he could do. Calling her last night had been awful, even if she'd kept a surprising amount of poise throughout the call, and even if she'd told him a lot about the people who might have wanted Patrick dead. He worried that the same people might come after her if they thought she'd testify against them. He hoped she'd take his advice and move to the townhouse. It was one place that they didn't know about, because it had no connection to Patrick or Agnes.

He watched Lauren's face until his own eyes drifted closed, and to his surprise, when he next opened them, the alarm clock next read eight in the morning even if the room wasn't noticeably brighter; without windows, the sun couldn't tell him the time. Rachel had roused, and she looked over Lauren at Al, her hair mussed and her eyes sleepily confused. Al shrugged at her, and Rachel shook her gently. "Babe?"

"Five more minutes," Lauren slurred. "Need more sleep."

Rachel kissed her neck until Lauren groaned and swatted her away, but she was blinking awake.

"Babe, what are you doing down here?" Rachel asked. "Why aren't you in bed with Joe?"

"Because Joanie is," Lauren murmured sleepily.

"What?!" Rachel squawked, nearly leaping out of bed.

"Joanie's here?" Al asked.

"They came in late," Lauren explained, and Al didn't know if the aggrieved tone in her voice was from the indignity of being kicked out of her bed by Joe's mistress or of being woken before she was ready. "Joanie needed a place to crash out of the eye of the media, and our bed's the only one long enough to accommodate her. Joanie made a point of assuring me she was just going to sleep because she was exhausted, and that there'd be no hanky panky going on."