Page 81 of Liar's Point

Why don’t u call her? Owen responded.

I want to ask her in person.

Face-to-face interviews worked better in terms of determining people’s credibility. Chris Wakefield was a case in point.

Nicole tossed her phone on the seat and checked the time again. It was after six, and she still had to go home to get ready for her date with David. She’d be lucky if she had time to shower, much less put on makeup or do anything with her hair.

On the other hand, why stress when there was a strong chance he was going to cancel anyway?

Then she remembered the look in his eyes when he’d apologized to her back at the lab on Sunday, which was the last time she’d seen him. He had seemed so sincere. And same for last night on the phone. And he had teed up Angelo’s, which was known for its wine list and romantic ambience.

Maybe Siena was right, and she needed to think positive.

Suddenly, she pictured Emmet by his front door with that heated look in his eyes. He’d seemed like he’d wanted to kiss her, which was crazy. She couldn’t go there with him. Besides the important fact that she was dating someone else right now, anything with Emmet was guaranteed to blow up in her face. Word would get around at work, as everything always did, and she’d end up being the subject of a bunch of locker room gossip.

Shuddering at the thought, Nicole glanced at the truck in front of her. The driver wasn’t nearby, so he was probably in the store buying something. She checked her watch again, then looked at the store.

Nicole glanced at the truck again, and her pulse quickened as she studied the dented bumper and dusty license plate. She’d seen this same pickup on Monday over in Sunset Shores.

The door to the store swung open, and a man emerged. He handed something to a red-haired little boy.

“No freaking way,” she muttered, watching them walk together. This was the landscaping guy she had interviewed Monday.

She jumped out of her car just as the man pulled open the passenger’s side door.

“Excuse me!”

The kid climbed into the truck cab. The man closed the door and then walked around the front and reached for the gas nozzle.

“Hey!”

He glanced up. A look of dread came over his face, and she felt a spurt of outrage.

“We spoke Monday afternoon?” She pulled her windbreaker back to show him the badge clipped at her hip. “I’m Detective Lawson?”

He stared at her, nozzle in hand, as she walked up to him. She eyed the side of his truck. Islandscapes, it said. Then she glanced into the truck cab at the boy sitting in the passenger seat with a bag of Skittles.

“What’s the problem, Officer?”

She smiled. “It’s Detective.” She nodded at the gas pump. “You mind putting that down, please?”

He replaced the nozzle and turned to face her, hooking his thumbs into his belt loops with the What could you possibly want with me? look that she had seen a thousand times.

“I talked to you Monday over in Sunset Shores.”

He darted a glance at his pickup. “Do we have to do this now? I’ve got my kid with me.”

“Yes, we do.” She dipped her head down and looked into the truck again. “And he looks pretty happy with his Skittles.” She eased closer, sizing the guy up. He wore a dark green golf shirt, faded jeans, and mud-caked boots. He had a slight paunch and a resigned look in his pale blue eyes.

“Monday you told me you were not on the beach near Lighthouse Point last Saturday.”

His eyebrows arched but he didn’t respond.

“Yet a man who fits your description was seen at that location in a green truck.” She paused. “This witness also described seeing a black dog and a little boy with red hair.” She tipped her head toward the truck. “You want to offer an explanation for that?”

He shook his head slightly. “Look, Officer—”

“Detective.”

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