"All right. Now it's moment of truth time. Into the kitchen, asshole," ordered Isa. The two of them followed me in. I thought of the big gob of drug-laden potatoes in the trash and hoped they'd buried it under their own leavings. Isa's arms were folded behind her back; I didn't know if she had the taser with her or not.

Candy squeezed past me and opened a cabinet next to the microwave. The lower section contained a spice rack, its contents neatly organized save for a few bits still sitting out on the counter. The upper shelf held cooking sprays, wooden skewers, baking soda, a plastic bottle of honey...