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“No problem.” Joel nodded, simultaneously scratching the kitten’s ears until it purred. “Any word from your mother?”
“Nothing since she called my dad on Saturday.” Devon hated lying, especially to the senior partner she so admired and who’d given her the chance of a lifetime. But there was no choice. Her mother’s safety was at stake.
“Get going,” Joel urged her. “That way you’ll avoid rush hour and be back before dark and before those winding roads become icy.”
“Thanks.”
Devon left the building. Before climbing into her car, she scanned the parking lot. No sign of Blake’s silver Jag. Maybe he’d already left for Manhattan.
She turned her key in the ignition, pulled out of her parking spot, and drove around to the exit.
She was just about to accelerate onto the road when she spotted Blake in her rearview mirror. He was walking through the parking lot, leading Chomper along by his leash.
Puzzled, Devon stepped on her brake and waited, watching Blake stride purposefully toward the row of cars she’d just scrutinized. Had she missed his?
He stopped beside a black Mercedes sedan, unlocking the door and opening it. He waited until Chomper had jumped in. Then he hopped into the driver’s seat and backed out of the spot.
Something made Devon wait until she’d gotten a full view of the vehicle. When she did, her eyes widened in surprise. It didn’t make sense. But it required a proactive move on her part.
Accelerating into traffic, Devon punched a few buttons on her cell phone, until she’d initiated a call to: “Monty’s cell.”
One ring. Two.
“Yeah?” Monty sounded distracted.
“Bad time?”
“Today’s been one long bad time so far. What’s up?”
“Just a question. Did the police release Frederick’s car?”
“Doubtful. They’ll probably keep it awhile. If a new lead turns up, they’ll want to sweep it again for forensics. Why?”
“Because I’m confused. Last night when Blake picked me up, he was driving a silver Jag. But just now I saw him leave the clinic driving a black Mercedes S500 luxury sedan. If it’s not Frederick’s, whose is it?”
“I don’t know. But I will. Thanks, honey.” Monty paused. “Are you okay?”
“Sure,” Devon returned lightly. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Because my gut tells me you have more than a professional interest in Blake Pierson.”
“I’ll get over it.”
The words tasted like sandpaper on her tongue. Suspecting Blake of poking around to get information for his grandfather was one thing. Suspecting him of being involved in Frederick’s death in a more hands-on way was quite another.
Just how used
was she being?
“Don’t jump to conclusions,” Monty advised her. “Another trick of the trade.”
“I’m not. I’m just steeling myself.” Devon cleared her throat. “Anyway, just so you know, I’m headed up to Mom’s place to check on the animals. I’ll eyeball the Pierson farm when I cruise by.”
“Drive safe. And, Dev, hang tough.”
“I plan to.”
MONTY DIDN’T WASTE time.
