Page 8 of Witness To Murder
Owen Walker was a very attractive man. Tall, broad shouldered. Maybe thirty-two or thirty-three. Isla would swoon. Leah couldn’t deny a bit of a swoony reaction herself. She could see him on the cover of a fashion magazine or leading the cast in a television series. Not to mention on a romance novel.
She just hoped his skills were as impressive. The last thing she needed was eye candy.
He introduced himself, shook her hand, but he didn’t take a seat. “I prefer to kick off a relationship with a new client in a less formal setting,” he explained.
Nice voice too. Deep, smooth. A charmer. Her failed blind date had been a charmer. Oh God…maybe this had been a mistake.
“There’s a coffee shop,” he went on. “Just down the block.”
Leah pushed to her feet. “Sounds good.” She turned to Jamie, who had risen from her seat as well. “Thank you for your time, Jamie.” She prayed it wasn’t going to be a waste of her own.
“Thank you.” She gave Leah a nod. “You can stop worrying now. You’re in very good hands.”
Leah hoped, hoped, hoped that was true. She had never done anything like this, and she wasn’t sure how it worked.She glanced at the man assigned to her case. This was the Colby Agency. The agency had a fantastic reputation. She had to believe this man would be of the highest caliber available in the field. She drew in a deep breath. At least she’d gotten the ball rolling. This thing was getting far too complicated and more than a little scary.
Doing something was better than doing nothing.
As they rode the elevator down to the main lobby, he asked, “How long have you been in Chicago?”
“I moved here five years ago.” For four years after the Chris disaster, she had drifted around, never feeling completely comfortable anywhere she landed—from Peoria, where she’d grown up, to Springfield and then up to Rockford and a few places in between, eventually landing in Chicago. Even though she’d spent the first two years in the Windy City juggling school and keeping a low-rent roof over her head, this felt like home for the first time since she’d left Peoria. Maybe it was more about finding her good friend Isla two years after settling in Chicago. “I can’t see myself ever leaving.”
“It’s a dynamic city, for sure,” he agreed.
When the elevator stopped, they crossed the grand lobby and exited the building. The afternoon sun had cranked up. This summer had been one for the books so far. Leah was ready for fall.
“What about you?” she asked.
“I’m a transplant. Moved from Miami ten years ago.”
“Talk about a climate change.”
“A bit different, yes.”
He smiled, and it only confirmed her idea that he could certainly grace the covers of magazines and books. Wow.
But could he solve this case?
Deep in her shoulder bag, her phone clanged its vintage ringtone. Even though she’d lowered the volume, it still sounded too loud in the moment.
“Excuse me.” With her mother’s health deteriorating these days, she was careful never to ignore her phone. She checked the screen. Didn’t recognize the number. She frowned, then glanced at the man beside her. “I should probably get this.”
He nodded and she tapped the screen. “Hello?”
“Leah, it’s Roger Bolling.”
The building manager. Her instincts sharpened. “Hey, Roger. Is everything all right?”
“Not really. There was an explosion at your door.”
Leah stalled. “What?” She couldn’t have heard him right.
“Some guy made a flower delivery. Since you weren’t home, he left it outside your door. Five minutes after the guy exited the building, there was an explosion. Blew the door off its hinges and started a fire. Luckily, I was here and got it put out before there was much damage. The fire department is here. Cops too.”
“Oh my God, was anyone hurt?”
“No, no. That’s the upside. But, as I said, the police are here, and they want to talk to you.”
What in the world? Emotions twisted inside her. “I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”
