Page 10 of Road Queens
“They are. And I can’t wait to meet them either.”
“Wanna bet?”
“Which part?”
“The part where they don’t walk in, and you’re crushed and hand me five bucks. Want to bet on it?” She grinned. “Don’t let the fact that we’re in a police station deter you from gambling.”
“Fine, you’re on.”
“Also, should I be concerned about how you ‘can’t wait’ to see Amanda and Sidney?”
“Not in the slightest.”
Before he could elaborate, here came the other two who had saved his sister and niece from predations, justifications, and all-around douchbaggery. And he saw at once that they didn’t recognize him either. The same could never be said of the three of them, especially Cassandra: the height, the hair, the scar all worked to make her unforgettable to pretty much everyone who crossed her path.
Which raised the question: Would Cassandra Rivers have committed murder in a town where she’d be recognized within seconds? People committed murder in their hometowns all the time, but ... he couldn’t see it. Not this woman. Not yet at least.
And he couldn’t stop staring at Amanda. Her hair was different, longer than last time, a mass of red that tended to frizz. He had no idea how she avoided helmet hair; add that to the bundle of questions he wanted to know but likely would never ask. And she wasn’t as pale as last time, which made sense given that it was now midsummer. Her dimples flickered depending on her mood; he’d never seen someone pull off a dimpled scowl before. Odd, the traits that stood out.
Her eyes were exactly the same.
“Detective?”
“Uh?” He glanced around and hoped he didn’t look as dazed as he felt.
Amanda and Sidney had just left, and Cassandra was examining him with raised eyebrows. “You okay?”
“Of course. Just thinking about the case. And how you owe me five bucks.”
She was already going for her billfold, then fished around and handed him Abe’s picture. “You knew they’d come.”
“Of course.”
“Okay, now I’m a little embarrassed I bet against them.”
“As you should be,” he teased, and pretended to smell the bill.
“It’s just ...” Cassandra stared at the door her friends (?) had used to leave. “We didn’t part on good terms. And I haven’t been here in the station that long. They must have hauled ass to get up here from Prescott. Same as you. Wherever you came from, you didn’t waste time either.” She was shaking her head. “I didn’t—I can’t believe they came. It doesn’t make any—why would they come?”
He shrugged, though he knew. “Listen, I know we just met again—”
“Again?”
“But ...” He dug around in his suit-jacket pocket and came up with half a dozen business cards. Even better, one of them was his. “I’d like very much to sign you as a client.”
“Client? Aren’t you a cop?” She didn’t wait for an answer before jumping ahead. “And why? I didn’t kill anyone. But if I did, you don’t think my first move should be to call, I dunno, a lawyer?”
“They can be simultaneous moves,” he admitted.
“What’s all this to you? No offense.” She’d crossed her arms and had gone back to studying him like he was an intriguing manner of bug she’d never seen before. “I’m just wondering why you popped up out of nowhere and want me as a client.”
“A colleague tipped me off. I know I’m coming off a little, err—”
“Like an ambulance chaser. A cute one, but still.”
“Fair. The thing is, it’s not out of nowhere. We’ve all met before. And I’m familiar with your work. Your, um, earlier work.”
“Could you just spit it out, please? This whole stammering-while-cute thing is coming off a little Hugh Grant–ish. D’youknow how many times my mom made me watchFour Weddings and a Funeral?”
