Page 67 of Carter

“Excuse me?” I say to the woman, who turns and looks up at me almost confused. “Hi, I’m looking for Lilianna Travers. She works here, right?”

The woman frowns then looks up at the clock on the wall. She’s young, maybe only eighteen.

“She’s not due to be in for another twenty minutes.”

“Mind if I wait?”

“Of course not,” she says carefully. She doesn’t ask questions, which makes me think they aren’t close. If they were, the protective mode would probably have kicked in and she’d ask who I was and what I want with her. Why is there a man looking for her at work?

Through the glass windows, I spot a café across the street. I head over to waste some time. The morning rush must have passed, or this place is awful, because it’s empty when I walk in. I order a hot coffee with a splash of cream, the way I always do, then make my way back to the laundromat.

Lilianna walks in ten minutes later.

I don’t bombard her when she walks in. I already know the other worker is going to let her know someone is here for her.

She’s not a fugitive, so it’s not like she needs to run. And she knows I know where she lives, and I think she’d prefer me to be here than there.

I watch the scene play out, exactly as I thought it would. Lilianna goes behind the counter, the other woman whispers something to her. Lilianna scans the place until her eyes land on me. She freezes, then sighs. She puts her things down and walks over to me.

“Detective Bennett, I don’t have anything to say to you.”

“Fine, but I have something I’d like to say to you. Give me five minutes. Can we talk somewhere private?”

She holds my gaze for a long moment. “Will you leave me alone after that?”

“Depends.”

Rolling her eyes, she groans. “I don’t know what you want, but my husband is not happy about this. He didn’t believe your story.”

It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell her it washerstory, but there’s no point in arguing.

“Five minutes,” I repeat.

Her gaze searches mine, and she considers me for a moment before saying, “Fine, but you’re only getting five minutes. Maybe only four.”

“Thank you.”

“I’ll be just a few minutes,” Lilianna tells the woman behind the counter. She nods and watches me as I follow Lilianna to the back room.

There is a small square table and two chairs in the back right corner. She leads me that way, and we sit. There are racks of clothing back here, some shelves stocked with supplies, unopened boxes, and two wide loading doors that they probably use for dropping off the dry cleaning.

“I’m not here to judge you or talk you into changing your mind,” I start. “But I will say that I think something happened to you three years ago, something you don’t want to talk about—something you want to forget. I don’t blame you for that. Maybe you’re strong-willed and you’re able to go on with your life after what happened, but I’m working with someone who would really benefit from finding the man who is responsible for his boyfriend’s death.”

Lilianna’s eyes widen and her mouth drops open. “Death? What death? I don’t know anything about a death.”

That renders me speechless for far too long. Nothing about her says she’s faking, unless she’s a really good actress.

I consider how to respond, but I’m stumped. Is it possible she didn’t know about the murder? How wouldn’t she? It was in the papers and on the news. Though, unfortunately, “Man Murdered in New York City Alley” is a repeat headline around here.

I set my hands flat on the table and lower my voice. “Mrs. Travers, three years ago on March 19th, Ryan Kinsley was murdered by a man who was assaulting a woman in an alley a few blocks west of High Line.” She pales, and I almostcan’t believe it. She didn’t know? “He stepped in to help, and unfortunately he was stabbed and succumbed to his wounds.”

“S-stabbed?” she whispers. “Someone d-died?”

Her hand goes to her chest, her fingers pressing on a gold chain that’s hanging around her neck. The trembling is unmistakable.

“Yes. I’ve been assigned to work on the case. And as I said, I am not trying to guilt you into anything. I am not trying to make things difficult for you. I’m sure you have your reasons for doing what you’re doing, but I will ask that you consider Ryan’s partner in all of this because he is still alive and he is hurting. If you know anything about that assault, anything at all, it could be very helpful in solving a cold case.”

“Someone was murdered?” she repeats as tears form in her eyes.