Page 44 of Wasted
He stopped, straining to see the license plate in the darkness.
Shadows covered the numbers in the second before the car turned onto the main street.
But Cillian had seen the attacker’s vehicle. Knew the make. Knew from the build and speed he was a man. And that, despite the ignorant claims of the detective and lieutenant, someone apparently had motive enough to break into the house of the dead man and search for something.
Which meant that same person also must have had a motive to murder Thomas Briscoe.
“Thanks for making time to see me tonight.” Robert lifted the mug of coffee Victoria had given him and took a sip, his brown eyes watching her over the rim.
“Don’t be silly. We both know why you wanted to come.” And she was thankful he had texted her first to make sure she’d be home at nine thirty. She nearly hadn’t been. Or rather, Robert might have seen Cillian following her home on his motorcycle to ensure she made it safely.
But Cillian had thankfully left immediately, allowing Victoria enough time to get her house in order and appear as if she’d been home for hours before Robert arrived, rather than only ten minutes.
Robert was going to have enough questions for her as it was.
She picked up her own mug of coffee from the kitchen counter and met his gaze. “Treese told you about my patient, didn’t she?”
His eyes twinkled, and a closed-lip smile shaped his mouth between the dark mustache and wide chin strip of his carefully styled beard. “You’ve always known what we’re thinking before we do.”
She lifted her eyebrows. “I believe that’s your forte, Dr. Weston.”
He chuckled as he lowered the mug and leaned back against the counter opposite her in the small kitchen. “I still look around for Dad every time someone calls me that.”
“That may be why I insist my patients call me Victoria.” She gave him a smile.
He laughed again. “Here I was thinking I’d be your shoulder to cry on, but you seem like you’re processing your patient’s death perfectly fine without me.”
Victoria added her other hand to her mug, letting the warmth seep into her cold fingers. “I never mind being thought of. I appreciate that you care.”
“Always.” His mouth settled into a more serious line. “Treese says you found his body. Thomas Briscoe?”
“How did you know that?” Victoria had intentionally not told Treese his name.
“Saw it on the news. I put two and two together. I think you mentioned once you had to go to an appointment with a patient in that neighborhood.” Robert and his steel trap memory.
“You’re correct, as usual. And, yes, I was the one who found him.” Her mind returned to the scene. To Thomas. Lifeless.
She blinked and turned away from Robert to set her coffee on the counter. “I was supposed to see him that morning. He asked me to come since he had to cut our appointment short the day before.”
Movement by the doorway caught her gaze.
Max’s huge, dark head appeared.
“Hi, sweetie. You can come in.”
The Leonberger stood frozen and erect, staring at Robert.
“I won’t bite, buddy. I promise.” Robert used a soft tone, but Max didn’t budge. “I don’t think he believes me.” Robert switched his gaze to Victoria. “Don’t know how Hank won him over.”
She gave her brother a smile. “He’ll get used to you someday. He warms to certain people more quickly than others.”
“I’m not sure what that says about me.” Robert gave her a rueful smile.
Max turned from the doorway and walked away, his toenails clipping with the thud of his giant paws as he went up the hallway and, judging from the sounds, lay on his dog bed in the living room.
“So you were there for an appointment?”
She took in a breath. Of course, Robert wouldn’t let her change the subject so easily. He’d come all that way to get her to talk it through, after all.
