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“Only on Saturdays.”
“My days off?”
She hummed. “I don’t have to stalk you when we’re at work.” Ally peered into his eyes. “You look tired.”
“And you look old.”
She swatted him across the head. Chad ducked, avoiding the worst of the hit. “I’ve not been sleeping well.”
“Tate?”
Chad nodded. He darted a look over his shoulder, spying Keeley in the reception. “And Vincent.”
“No.”
“What?”
“You’re not visiting him.”
“I swore I would.”
Ally rolled her eyes. “So? He’s behind bars, choking to death on his cancerous lungs. He’s not going to come knocking on your door. You don’t owe him, and he sure as hell doesn’t deserve it.”
“I know, I just…”
She wagged her finger at him. “You are not going to be a serial killer’s plaything ever again, understand?”
“Why are you here again?”
She shrugged and gestured to the trunk of her car. “I may have got you something.”
“And you couldn’t wait until Monday?”
“I didn’t want to give you it outside the station.”
Chad narrowed his eyes. “Why?”
“I think when you see it, you’ll understand.”
She opened the trunk of her car and reached inside.
Chad waited with his arms folded, tapping one foot on the ground. He stopped when he realized it was an art canvas.
Ally cursed as she pulled it from her car, struggling with the awkward size.
Chad grabbed an end before it smashed into the ground.
“You … you bought the painting?”
Ally flicked her hair out of her face. “Yeah, well. That asshole Jeffery refused to sell it to you so here it is. You can celebrate not being at the mercy of a serial killer no more and burn the thing.”
“It was £30,000.”
“Turns out I like you.”
“I can’t accept it.”
“Either you do or I’ll take an axe to it.”
