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Claire gestured toward the stairs leading to the second floor, where all the conference rooms were located. “The team is all gathered together. We’ve got coffee, tea, and water inside. Is there anything else I can get you?”
“No, that’s good,” Lisa said. Again, she looked nervously around. “The whole team? Shouldn’t we just talk to Ryan?”
It didn’t take a psychic to sense Lisa’s trepidation. She wasn’t being dismissive; she was being self-protective.
“We always work as a full team,” Claire explained. “We’re most effective that way. But not to worry. There are only six of us, seven counting Yoda. With the exception of him, we’re all nice, regular people.” A smile. “We won’t overwhelm you, I promise.”
“You’re far from regular people, from what I’ve read.” Miles was as blunt as Lisa. He took his friend’s arm and urged her to the stairs. “But I know how you work. Your method is fine with us—as long as you’re working with us.”
They reached the landing just as Ryan bounded up the stairs and joined them.
“I’m glad you decided to take us up on our offer,” he said. “Let’s go inside and have a seat.”
He and Claire showed them into the conference room that was diagonally across from their main conference room. It was more compact, and the decorum was completely different. This room was more eye-popping—done in sharp blacks, whites, and reds. In contrast to the more traditional main conference room, this room was very contemporary, and, at the same time, very appealing. The table was black oak, the chairs were red leather, and the walls were white with thin red and black lines running horizontally across where the wall right-angled with the ceiling. A combination of classy and trendy—perfect for certain clients, including the ones who’d just walked in.
Sure enough, Lisa eyed the room and said, “Nice. Whoever designed it has good taste.”
“That would be me, and thanks.” Casey stood, extending her hand to each of them. “I’m Casey Woods. Ryan’s told me a lot about you and your situation. I’m glad to finally meet you.”
“Ah, the boss lady.” Milo shook her hand. “Your credentials are impressive, but you won’t need to read my body language. I say everything I think.”
“Thanks for the heads-up,” Casey replied. “That’s a refreshing trait.” She indicated the team members seated at the table. “You’ve already met most of us—Ryan, Marc, Claire, and now me.”
“And Yoda,” Milo added. He shot Ryan an appreciative look. “Very cool. Well done.”
Ryan shot off a salute. “I aim to please.”
“This is Patrick Lynch,” Casey introduced, waiting as Patrick shook hands with each of them. “The magnificent bloodhound lying over there and staring at you is Hero. And over here is the team member who’s responsible for getting you here—Emma Stirling.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Emma’s head shot up. Casey was giving her full credit and opening the door for her to lead the way. Emma couldn’t, wouldn’t, let her down.
Composure in place, Emma rose to shake their hands. “I’m so glad you’re here,” she said. “I know we can help you.”
Miles and Lisa both looked puzzled by this turn of events and taken aback by Casey’s announcement.
“I thought Ryan was our ticket in,” Milo stated bluntly.
“Nope.” Ryan shook his head. “I was second on board with this case. Emma zeroed in on you, did all the initial research, and brought the case to me—to us. She’s a very tenacious and loyal investigator. You’re very lucky; she came to your rescue before you even knew you needed rescuing.”
“You lost us,” Lisa said.
“Not completely,” Milo corrected her. “I did a background check on each of you. Emma’s past bore a striking similarity to ours, Lis. Foster care and all.”
“Oh.” Lisa was clearly surprised.
“I’ll fill in the blanks,” Emma offered. “Let’s all sit.” She paused, then figured what the hell. She didn’t have to be a receptionist to be cordial. “Can I get you some coffee or something?”
“We’re fine.” Lisa was already settling herself at the conference table, sitting next to Emma and directly across from Ryan and leaving the empty seat beside her for Milo.
Once they were seated, Emma explained everything, touching briefly on her own previous life but concentrating mostly on how she’d stayed connected to Chicago, and how, as a result, she’d found Lisa’s obit.
“The rest was obsessive on my part,” she said in her endearingly shoot-from-the-hip manner. “I was so pissed that Lisa Barnes was being dismissed like a strung-out junkie because of a juvie record and a life in foster care that I couldn’t leave it alone. I didn’t know about Miles—all the detailed discovery was on Ryan’s part—but I knew that Lisa deserved better than what she got. I had so many questions, and I felt such a strong connection to her—to you,” she amended, addressing Lisa, “that I couldn’t let it go. Thankfully, my team is exactly that—a team. They all jumped in to help me. Which is how Ryan found the connection between ScoobyDoo and Miles, and between Miles and Lisa. When he and Marc visited you in Upper Montclair, they saw you were freaked out and in trouble.”
“Wow,” Lisa said. “That’s nothing like the story I was expecting to hear. We thought you were working for whoever’s after us. And all along this was happening because you felt like we were kindred spirits.” She swallowed. “Thank you.”
“No problem.”
