Page 52 of Liar's Point

“What, Emmet?”

He turned to her.

“Something’s bugging you.”

He shook his head and looked down.

“Is it the case?”

“No.” He frowned. “Well, maybe.” He ran his hand through this hair. “Have you ever thought you might have made a wrong choice? About something important, and it’s too late for do-overs?”

She stared up at him, trying to read his eyes. “You mean the job or—”

“Yeah, I mean, sometimes I think I’m really not cut out for this,” he said.

“No one’s cut out for talking to grieving families.”

“You are.”

She drew back. “No, I’m not.”

“Yeah, you are. I’ve seen you. You’ve got a knack for dealing with people. I get around people going through something, and I get uncomfortable. I clam up. People think I don’t give a shit.”

“No, they don’t.”

He shook his head.

“Emmet. Anyone who knows you knows you give a shit. This job defines you.”

He looked at her.

“You’re the most tenacious detective I know,” she went on. “So, maybe you’re not the best at hand-holding. So what? You never let up until you get answers, and that’s what matters. You’re amazing at what you do.”

He gazed down at her, his eyes intense, and she started to feel uneasy.

She looked away, but she could still feel him staring at her. Maybe she’d said too much.

From a work standpoint, she’d never really told him how much she admired him—probably because they had always been so competitive with each other. But she figured he knew. She glanced at him, and the simmering look in his eyes sent a jolt of heat through her.

He’d walked her to her car again. Was he just being protective or was there something more? She stared up at him, searching his eyes, and the moment seemed to stretch out.

His phone buzzed, and he stepped back to pull it from his pocket. The name Lainey was on the screen. Not Lainey Wheaton, or O’Toole’s—just Lainey.

It buzzed again.

“You need to take that?” she asked.

“Yeah.” He glanced up.

“Thank you for dinner.”

He looked confused. “Why? We split it.”

“Well. Thanks for inviting me.”

His phone was still buzzing as she opened her door. She got behind the wheel and watched in the side mirror as he walked away with the phone pressed to his ear.

Shaking her head, she pulled her phone from her pocket. She’d missed David’s call, and he’d left a voicemail. She pressed play as she backed out of the space.

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