Page 62 of Liar's Point

ELEVEN

Owen leaned his head into the conference room. “Still here?”

Nicole glanced at the clock. How was it nine already? “I’m about to wrap up.”

Owen nodded. “I’m heading out. We’ll tackle it again tomorrow.”

Nicole rubbed her eyes. “You hear back from that co-worker? Jill?”

“No.”

They had reached out to Aubrey’s friends in case anyone had a lead on Samuel Pacheco’s address.

“But if I do, I’ll let you know,” Owen said.

Nicole sighed and glanced down at her files. “Okay, see you tomorrow.”

Her vision blurred and she rubbed her eyes again. She’d been through everything they had so far, including every single one of the autopsy photos, which made her sick to her stomach. She’d been hoping to spot something—anything—that would potentially generate a new lead.

Discovering the last name of Aubrey’s ex-boyfriend had seemed like progress. But the guy wasn’t answering his phone and his driver’s license record showed an Austin address. Until they figured out where he lived locally, they were no closer to interviewing him than they had been before they had his full name.

“Detective?”

She glanced up to see their new patrol officer standing in the doorway.

“Hey, Neil, what’s up?”

“We’ve got a gentleman here who wants to talk to you?”

A gentleman.

“He give a name?” she asked.

“No. But he has your business card.”

Nicole pushed back her chair. “All right, thanks.” She smoothed her hair and checked the clock again. Odd time for a drop-in, but she was curious. She’d passed out dozens of business cards over the past few days, so maybe somebody was coming forward with a tip. They could definitely use one.

Crossing the bullpen, she glanced through the glass divider and saw a tall man with his back to her. He wore a dress shirt and slacks.

He turned around.

Black Visor Guy. Only he looked nothing like the sweaty runner she’d encountered yesterday.

She opened the door to the reception area. “Hi.”

“Detective Lawson.” He nodded crisply. “Do you have a minute?”

“Sure.” She held the door open. “Come on back.”

She looked him over as he passed through the door into the bullpen. He seemed nervous as he glanced at all the cubicles, which were empty except for a couple of uniforms typing up reports.

“We can sit at my desk or—”

“Would you mind if we talk privately?” he asked.

Yep, nervous.

“No problem,” she said, and led him to an interview room with a table and two chairs.

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