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“Maybe I was just mad I wasn’t the one who got to announce it. Davenport’s kind of a dick. I’m better looking, anyway.”
“We both know that’s not the case.”
He grinned. “So, you don’t think I’m better looking?”
Cassie was finding it harder to stay focused. “You don’t think Lewis did it.”
“Hypothetically , if that were the case, there’s not much I can do about it. They made the arrest. The proof is there. They announced it. Open and shut. Unless a mysterious woman materializes out of nowhere with some evidence to the contrary, my hands are tied.”
This was going to be the hardest part, and Cassie still hadn’t figured out a way to tell Viotto she knew without a doubt that Lewis was innocent despite having no proof.
The waitress arrived with their order, saving Cassie from having to answer right away. They both dug in, and there were a few moments of silence while each of them had their fair share of lunch.
Viotto wiped his mouth to be polite, but Cassie could tell he was resisting the urge to lick all his fingers. “This is incredible.”
“Some of the best you’ll ever have.”
“I don’t doubt it.”
Cassie leaned back for a breather. “How often do mysterious women materialize out of nowhere with the evidence you’re looking for?”
“Today would be the first.”
“Look, I don’t want to get your hopes up. I don’t have anything concrete, but I do think I can help—”
Viotto’s phone rang. It turned more than a few heads as he scrambled to wipe his hands and answer the call. Luckily, his ringing phone offered her a few extra seconds to find her words.
He pressed the phone to his ear. “Viotto.” A pause. “You’re kidding.” He looked at Cassie, then down at his half-eaten brisket. “Yeah, I’m close. Give me ten minutes.”
Cassie waited until he hung up. “Duty calls?”
“A complication.” There was longing on his face as he pulled out his wallet. “I’m sorry—”
Cassie held up her hand. “Please, this is on me. You can pay for the next one.”
“A second date?”
“I wouldn’t call it that.” She grabbed a napkin and fished a pen out of her purse. She wrote down her phone number and handed it to him. “My name is Cassie Quinn. The FBI will have a file on me.” She pointed to the napkin
. “Look me up, then call me if you want to hear what I have to say.”
19
Senator Lawrence Grayson would’ve been three sheets to the wind if his mind hadn’t been preoccupied by the day’s recent events. He could feel the tingle of the alcohol in the tips of his fingers and toes, but he was as sharp as ever.
On the one day he wished he could forget everything, he had no choice but to focus on the way his life was crumbling around him. If Connor were still alive, would his son be pointing and laughing at him, or would he show the barest hint of compassion for a father who had lost everything?
Grayson took another sip of whiskey and felt the burn of the liquid as it slid down his throat. This bottle—and other ones like it—had been used to celebrate the highest of highs and mourn the lowest of lows over the years, but the senator had never felt like this before.
He couldn’t say he’d never envisioned a day like this. Connor had gotten into plenty of trouble over the years, and there had been several discreet trips to the hospital. The worst he’d had was a broken nose and a couple fractured ribs, but even through his fury, Grayson couldn’t ignore those paternal instincts that drove him to protect his one and only son.
Instincts that would serve no purpose in the future.
“Are you listening?” The effect of the alcohol warbled Anastasia’s voice. “Lawrence? Did you hear a word I said?”
“No.”
The senator tipped his glass back again and drained the liquid, never taking his eyes off the overcast sky outside his office window. He didn’t want to be here, but his wife didn’t want him at home either. He had no choice.
