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Except, he had recently called her brilliant, hello.
“What? Where are we?”
He set a bag down on the counter and gestured to the candy bar. “Put down the chocolate, Eve.” He reached out to ease it from her hand. Wrapped it up. “I brought you a sandwich. It’s from the Dayton Deli. Ham salad, on whole wheat.”
He brought her lunch? “I love ham salad,” Eve said, opening the bag. She glanced at him. “Have you been talking to Silas?”
He ran a zipper across his lips and gave her another of those cryptic smiles and oh, her father was dead on.
Rembrandt Stone was a mystery she intended to solve.
He walked over to her wall and stared at it. “What happened to you, Gretta?”
He went very quiet then, as if waiting for an answer, and Eve didn’t know what to say.
Finally, he said, “I called her parents. I’m going to meet them at the County Medical Examiner’s office.”
“Do they know yet?”
“I told them we had an update on their daughter’s case.”
“Oh, Rem. You should have gone over to their house and told them personally.”
She didn’t even realize she’d said the words until he turned, his eyes wide. “Really?”
She nodded, and made a face, and not just because of her comment, but, Rem? Really? Although, he’d told her to call him Rem, once upon a time. And he hadn’t just corrected her, so…
He blew out a breath. “You’re right. I’ll remember that.”
She pulled out the sandwich and broke off half. Joined Rembrandt at the board.
“So, what do you know?”
“She has abrasions on her hands and knees, and strangulation marks on her neck, but we’ll wait for the M.E.’s report on any trace evidence on her body.”
Oh, the tangy pickles and mayo of the ham sandwich went right to her bones and soothed the savage beast inside. She might have even uttered a small sound of appreciation.
He looked down at her and grinned, his blue eyes shiny.
She swallowed past the sudden lump in her throat.
He turned to the evidence table. “Is this the contents from her purse?”
“Yes. Silas found everything from lipstick to a hairbrush to a wallet, but no driver’s license. She looks about eighteen, however, so maybe she never got one.”
“What’s this?” Rem had picked up a plastic bag with a credit card inside.
“It was in her wallet.”
“Robert D. Swenson.”
“Silas is running a stolen card check on the number.”
He set down the card. “We ran a check on Gretta. She’s been missing for three months, according to a report filed by her parents.”
“So, a runaway.” Eve debated, then, “She had old scars on her arms—cutting.”
Rembrandt’s face twisted. “Really? Self harm?”
