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Laz groaned. “Damn, I love the way you think. Uh, so when are you coming home?”
They both laughed, and it felt good. Arguing with him wore her out; lately, that was all they’d been doing. It seemed like they were finally turning the corner to get their marriage back on track.
“I’m planning to leave here at six. I would suggest we have a date night and go to dinner, but I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” Journey said. If someone really was after Laz, going to a restaurant would only put others at risk.
“Yeah, we should probably lay low. How about I order us a nice dinner and make sure it’s here by the time you get home?”
Journey smiled, and warmth spread through her body. “That sounds great.”
“Good, I’ll see you later then,” he said.
“Okay, and Laz?”
“Yeah?”
“I love you.”
“I love you too, sweetheart. And don’t give my guys too much trouble.”
Journey laughed. “I can’t make any promises, but I’ll try.”
* * *
Still smiling after her call with Laz, Journey opened her bottom desk drawer and pulled her makeup compact from her purse. Looking in the small mirror, she patted away the sheen from her face, freshened her brick-red colored lipstick, and had put everything away when Prentice showed up in her doorway.
“What’s up?” she asked and rocked back in her seat.
“Marta’s here, and she was getting ready to run.”
Journey sat forward, frowning. “What? What do you mean? Running from what…or who?”
“That’s what we need to figure out. I’m thinking we should meet in your office.”
“Oh, okaaay.” Journey wasn’t sure why he was acting so strange, but when he escorted Marta in, she saw why.
The other day, the woman’s blonde hair was in a fancy updo, and her face looked professionally made-up. She’d been dressed in a nice blouse and pants. Yet, right now, her hair hung loose beneath an Atlanta Braves baseball cap that she had paired with a ratty sweatshirt, paint-spattered blue jeans, and a pair of blue Chucks.
The outfit looked like a disguise, and with the large, multicolored overnight bag slung over her shoulders, she looked as if she was getting ready to run away.
Concern engulfed Journey as she slowly walked around the desk.
“Ms. Polczynski, I’m glad you’re here. Please, have a seat.” Journey gestured to one of the guest chairs in front of her desk.
“It’s not like I had a choice,” she snapped and dropped into the chair as if she was tired from carrying a heavy load. Not only was her appearance different, but so was her attitude.
Prentice sat in the chair next to her, and Journey returned to her seat.
“Why was I brought here instead of the police station?” Marta asked.
Journey propped her elbow on the desk and rested her chin on her hand. Now she knew something was going on; it was as if the woman had been expecting to get arrested. “Would you have preferred to be at the police station instead of here?”
She didn’t answer the question right away, and for a minute, Journey didn’t think she’d respond until she said, “Maybe I should have a lawyer present.”
“Why? Did you do something wrong?” Journey asked.
The woman didn’t respond, which told Journey what she already knew. Marta was involved in the murder in some way. Or at least she knew more than she’d let on the other day, and now she was running scared.
“The cops found you at the bus station. Why were you leaving town?” Prentice asked. “Where were you heading?”
