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“Morning, boss.” Her brow is raised, and her grin is so wide I can see her gums. Nadia is not big on smiles. “Camille Roberts is in your office.”
And there it is.“Don’t call me boss. Just Ethan will do.”
“Okay, “Just Ethan,” whatever floats your boat.”
I give her a sideways glance.
“Oh, and good news!” She raises her mug in cheers. “We still have internet.”
“She doesn’t have an appointment.”
“I said that, boss. I tried. I really did. But you knowher.She told me—with a flick of her perfect wrist and her perfectly manicured fingers—to go fuck myself.”
My jaw tenses. “Sounds like Camille.”
“Doesn’t it? What can I say? A vagina combined with an attitude is a lethal combination.”
“I just can’t imagine how she couldn’t win over the detectives working her father’s case.”
Nadia shrugs. “Your guess is as good as mine.”
“Did you bring the file?”
“The file?”
“From Max.”
Her brows shoot up and she holds up her index finger. “Um…” She reaches down and pulls it slyly from her desk drawer. “Gotcha! Of course I did. And it’s good, boss. It’s very good.”
“How many times have I told you? Stop calling me boss. You know I hate that.” I glance toward my office and then back at Nadia. “Wait. How good?”
She nods vigorously. Camille’s visits really light her up. She’ll never admit it, but Nadia aspires to be exactly like Camille. “Juicy good.”
“Thatisgood.”
“Lucas Bennett kept a journal.”
I let out a deep exhale. I might just solve this case after all. “Great,” I flip through the file. “Let me deal withherand we’ll sit down and take a look.”
“Good luck,” Nadia says, reaching for the manila folder. “You’re going to need it. She’s in a special mood today.”
I keep the file just out of her reach. “Special mood?” My eyes widen. “What does that mean? Give it to me in male terms.”
“You’ll see.”
I glance toward my office. Camille is sitting in the chair behind my desk,mychair. She folds her arms across her chest and glares at me with a barely contained rage. A little wave is all it takes for her to lose it. She jumps to her feet, which is impressive in six-inch heels, and gestures dramatically at her Rolex, stabbing at it with her index finger.
“Fucking rich people,” Nadia says. “So impatient.”
“Time is money and money is time,” I tell her, chugging my coffee. I’m almost grateful it has long gone cold. “Make sure she gets billed from the second she stepped through the door until the second she steps out. If I’d known she was here, I would’ve circled the block a few times.”
“If you’d known,” Nadia says. “You wouldn’t have showed at all.”
* * *
“I’m going to need a second,”I say, sinking down into my chair. I’m careful not to make eye contact as I lean forward and move several items around my desk, only to move them right back. “You don’t have an appointment. Remember? We talked about that.”
I feel her eyes burning holes in me as I type in my password and click a few tabs open. She scoffs and paces my office. Camille is the type of woman who commands an audience and won’t settle for anything less. When I’m satisfied, I look up and meet her. “Ms. Roberts.” I lift my pen and doodle on the yellow tablet in front of me. “Tell me, to what do I owe the pleasure of your presence?”
