Page 62 of Midnight Secrets

Claire

My fingers drummed a steady tattoo on the wooden table as I stared out the front window of The Cozy Cup.

Ozzie was late.

Not that I was surprised.

Though I was a little surprised he hadn’t called or texted to tell me he wasn’t coming. He struck me as more considerate than that.

Maybe he wasn’t who I thought he was. Maybe it was a good thing he hadn’t shown up.

“You going to sit here all morning or are you going to take the coffee to him?”

I glanced up at the sound of Mina’s voice. She held a to-go cup in her hand.

“What?” I frowned.

She held out the cup. “Coffee. For your detective.” With a quick tip of her head, she motioned to the door. “Go. He either stood you up or he forgot.” I told her who I was here to meet when I arrived half an hour ago.

“Either way,” Mina continued, “you can’t let that slide. If he forgot—because, hello, murder investigation—then he could probably use some decent coffee and a break. If he stood youup, it wouldn’t hurt for him to know that’s not cool. Maybe he’ll grovel at your feet and offer to take you to dinner.” She shrugged one shoulder, a naughty smile forming on her face.

I chuckled and took the coffee. “I doubt that will happen, but it will at least let him know I’m not a pushover.”

Mina laughed. “I think he knows that already.”

Grinning, I stood. “Probably.” I slung my purse over my shoulder, then picked up my coffee. “Thanks, Mina. I needed the kick in the pants.”

She cocked out a hip, resting a hand on it as she smiled. “I know. Someone has to make sure you two don’t screw this up.”

Huffing a short laugh, I headed for the door—crutch-free now. My leg still ached, but it was bearable, and I was tired of only having one hand free. “Like you’re one to talk. How’s Ivan?” Mina’s last relationship with Ivan Milanovich ended with a soft fizzle several months ago. They both led busy lives, and Mina said they didn’t have enough chemistry to want to make time for each other.

Mina narrowed her eyes at me, but there was no malice in her expression. Only amusement. “I’m content being single.”

“Who says I’m not?” I tossed her a look as I put my shoulder into the door.

“Me. The pinch to your expression as you spent the last half an hour staring out the window, waiting on Oscar, spoke volumes,” she retorted.

I scowled, unaware I’d been so transparent. “I need to work on my poker face.”

Mina chuckled. “You do that.” She flapped a hand in farewell as I stepped out the door. “Call me later with all the details.”

With a wave of my own, I hurried off to my car. Hopefully, the details would be good ones.

It was a quick drive to the Parker’s Landing police station. I could only hope he was there. It was Saturday. If not, I mightgo full stalker mode and try to find his house. I knew he lived in my neighborhood, but not which house. Though I could make an educated guess. There were only a couple that had been up for sale recently. Sometimes, being a real estate agent came in handy.

Turning into the visitor section of the department’s lot, I breathed a sigh of relief as I spotted Oscar’s truck—both his personal one and the patrol truck he’d driven to meet me Thursday night—in the employee lot beyond the automated barrier. He was here.

I parked near the sidewalk and got out. Salt crunched under my feet as I limped up the concrete path to the door. Someone had shoveled it and laid down salt.

Tucking one coffee cup between my arm and my chest, I tugged on the door and let myself in. The same officer who’d been there the last time I came in looked up.

“Good morning, Ms. Holmes. How can I help you?”

“Is Detective Quartermaine here?”

“He is. I take it he’s not expecting you?”

“Not exactly.”

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