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“She was found on the West Side. West for her surname. There, I’ve done mine. What’s her first name?”
“I don’t . . . Angel.” Since that flashed into her mind, Eve went with it. “Might as well do the higher power thing. She deserves something.”
“Angel West she is then. And she matters.”
“Okay.” She let out a long breath. “Why don’t we just sit here awhile, drink this wine, and look at the tree.”
“A fine idea.”
“I like it.” She tipped her head to his shoulder. “Christmas. I guess I have to buy stuff.”
“Horrors.”
She laughed, sipped her wine.
She’d put it aside, she told herself. Take down her board, close her murder book. She’d done her job, she’d done her best. Now she was home with the fire warm, the tree shining, the cat snoring, and the man who loved her sitting beside her.
It was a lot more than enough.
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