Page 53 of Liar's Point

Hey. Me again. You’re not picking up, so I’m guessing you’re at work still. Or possibly avoiding me.

Nicole crossed the parking lot as the silence went on.

Listen, I really meant what I said. I’m sorry about Saturday. I want to make it up to you, so I was thinking, how about Wednesday night at Angelo’s Bistro? I’d really like to see you, Nicole. Let me know.

She pulled onto the highway and glanced at the phone on the seat beside her. Then she trained her gaze on the road, and her nerves fluttered as she thought of Emmet’s hazel eyes staring down at her just now. Once again, she was twisting herself in knots trying to read into his looks, his gestures, his unspoken words. And once again, she felt like she was grasping at straws. As long as she’d known him, his feelings had been a black box.

And then here was David—upfront, no games, just putting it all out there. That took guts, and maybe she wasn’t giving this thing between them enough of a chance. She of all people understood how consuming his job was, and it wasn’t fair to hold that against him.

She grabbed the phone and dialed him back. He answered on the first ring.

“David, it’s me.”

“Hi,” he said, sounding surprised.

“So, I got your message, and I’m free Wednesday night.”

***

Emmet caught Lainey’s eye as soon as he stepped into O’Toole’s. She held up a finger for him to wait.

He moved out of the traffic flow and glanced around. They were even busier than yesterday, and he remembered their Monday-night half-off pitchers, which always drew a crowd. He glanced at Lainey, who stood behind the taps talking to one of her two bartenders.

Finally Lainey looked at him again. She jerked her head toward the hallway in back, and he met her near the door to her office. She wore all black again today, down to the lace bra peeking out from her scoop-neck T-shirt.

“We’re packed tonight,” she said, steering him into an alcove stacked with kegs. “How’s the case coming?”

“It’s coming.”

“This whole thing’s really rocked the staff. I’ve got one girl who called in sick and another one who showed up a basket case. Apparently, she was good friends with Aubrey.”

“Who is she?” he asked.

“Britta Phelps. She’s on break in my office. I thought you might want to talk to her.”

“I do. She’s a server here?”

“Yeah. She’s twenty-three, and she’s been here almost a year.”

Lainey crossed her arms over her chest.

“What?” he asked.

“Evidently, there’s a rumor circulating that it was a murder, not a suicide. Is that true?”

The manner of death had been reported on the news tonight, so there was no use dodging the question now.

“That’s true, yes,” he said.

“Well, do you have a suspect?”

“I’m sorry, but I can’t discuss—”

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” Sighing, she stepped across the hall and reached for the door. “Listen, I’m happy for you to talk to her, but try not to drag things out, all right? I’m shorthanded tonight.”

He nodded. “I hear you.”

She turned and opened the door, then stepped back so he could go in. The young woman sitting at Lainey’s desk looked up from her phone. She had long blond hair, and her eyes were swollen from crying.

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