Page 49 of A Murderous Crow
They thanked me for my time and left, no closer to figuring out what’d happened to Hal, but thankfully seemingly none the wiser that I had anything to do with it. Still, my heart hammered in my chest, and as soon as the office door closed, I sagged in my seat. My eyes drifted to the window that certainly wasn’t there for any kind of view, but did let in natural light.
My phone buzzed and I jumped, quickly picking it up to see a message from Corbett.
How did you do?
I looked around my office, which I know was stupid, but…
To what are you referring?I asked.
You know what. Meet me tonight. My place. 8 o’clock.
I sighed and had to frown.
What if I’m too tired?It sounded lame, even to me, but I’d already hit send.
I call, you answer.I frowned and texted back – but, of course, I got no response. I hated that he knew I would show up – how could I not? My curiosity was already killing me.How did he know?Literally, how did he know the police had been here? Was he stalking me?
Of course he was,I thought to myself.It was stupid of you to think he wouldn’t.
The whole thing threw me into such a tailspin, but I couldn’t cancel the rest of my day, even if I wanted to.
I wondered if he knew my schedule somehow, too. Because there was no reason I had to miss the appointed hour, and in fact, his placewasclosest to my last appointment for the day, conveniently so.
“Two tears in a bucket, mother fuck it,” I muttered, and I gathered my wits, shoving all else to the side to finish out my day.
I arrived at his place at seven thirty, and I hoped that I was early enough that it would catch him off guard and annoy him somehow.
Instead, I pulled onto his street, and the garage was already up and waiting for me to pull in under his carriage house.
For some reason, today, it sort of ground my gears that he always seemed to be ahead of me. The police presence looming in my office earlier scared me more than a little.
I walked across his courtyard, my heels clacking smartly over the bricks, and caught sight of him in the kitchen through the French doors. He had his sleeves rolled back over his forearms, and his collar was open at the throat. What’s more, he had on an apron and was running a knife through some herbs on a cutting board. I froze, taking it in.
He looked up at me and stuck his thumb in his mouth, and I swallowed hard. He sucked something off it and jerked his head to indicate I should let myself in. I entered the kitchen and closed the door behind me.
“How did what go?” I demanded, and I wanted him to be crystal clear that he meant the cops being in my office.
“With the detectives,” he said, not even bothering to deny it.
“Are you stalking me now?” I demanded, crossing my arms over my stomach. He gave me a lopsided and almost sinister grin.
“I’m keeping tabs,” he answered.
I rolled my eyes and threw up my hands.
“Honestly, I have no idea if they believed a word that came out of my mouth or not. You probably know how these things go.”
He chuckled, tossed the herbs into whatever he was sautéing, and gave the contents of the pan a flip or two to mix things up. The room was fragrant with white wine and a familiar, if not readily identifiable, smell.
“Sit,” he ordered, gesturing to the little table at the end of his kitchen, which was set for two.
“What if I can’t stay?” I asked. I knew I was being petulant, but this was really rubbing me the wrong way for some reason.
“It wasn’t a request, Savannah.Sit.”
I huffed a sigh at his incorrigibility and went and sat. He came over and poured a glass of white.
“It’s a good vintage,” he promised. “Try to relax a little. Catch me up. What did they ask?”
