Sara froze, the cantaloupe in her hand hovering over the cutting board. “You’re joking, right? That loser thinks he’s got a shot with me?”
She waved the knife in the air, eyes blazing. “If I poke his eyes out, you two gonna cover for me?”
Roger slipped an arm around her shoulders, gently steering her away. “Come on, Sara. He’s not even worth the trouble.”
On the other side of town, Patricia reached the spot where they’d agreed to meet.
It was a little riverside dock—the kind of place where old couples strolled after dinner. Tonight, though, it was almost deserted.
She found Brandon sitting alone on a bench, cigarette between his fingers. He’d put a paper napkin under his feet, collecting the pile of cigarette butts around him. Maybe it was his way of keeping things tidy, planning to clean up before he left.
“Mr. Lantz.”
At the sound of her voice, Brandon quickly tossed his cigarette to the ground and crushed it with his heel. “Ms. Martin.”
He nodded toward a vending machine nearby. “Want something to drink? I can grab it.”
Patricia shook her head. “No, thanks. I’m good.”
“So, what does Mr. XIng want with me tonight?” she asked, purposely skipping his title. Talking to Brandon was different from talking to Detective Lantz. She didn’t want to put up walls between them.
He cut right to the chase. “Just wanted to know if you have any evidence.”
Patricia’s brows drew together. “Evidence? About what?”
The autumn breeze picked up, rattling the little trees along the dock and sending dry leaves skittering across the pavement.
Brandon met her eyes, steady and direct in the dim glow of the streetlamp. Patricia didn’t need to look hard to know he was sizing her up.
“You know what I mean, Ms. Martin.”
She deflected, voice careful. “Is this for the case, or is this personal?”
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