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Her smile widened. He swore her teeth glinted even whiter, as if joy illuminated her from within. “About time you see that, Clay. We’ve only been sleeping together since—”
He threw up a hand to halt the flow of her words. Quaide was busy laughing.
“We’ll discuss this later,” he told her. “Right now, we need to see those pictures.”
When the woman was happy, it seemed as if bubbles of light skittered over her entire being. As she scooted her chair closer to the table and set her phone on the surface to swipe through the pictures, she fizzled with the brand of excitement that he hoped to see from the entire Sentry team someday. Whatever had been bugging her when she glanced at her phone before was gone.
Quaide scooted his chair closer to see her screen too. When she began flipping through the album and talking about each person, Clay stopped her.
“How do you remember all this?”
She stared at him. “I just do.”
Quaide slapped a hand on the tabletop. “I’m telling you, Lexis—”
“We’re not discussing the matter.” Swinging his attention to Lark again, he said, “So you’ve got a great memory.”
“For details, yes. It helped a lot in college. Anyway, this girl in the purple? She was wearing PJ bottoms with kittens on them.”
“So?”
Lark gave him an isn’t-it-obvious eye roll. “Anybody who loves kittens isn’t bombing a church or having bombs delivered.”
He and Quaide traded a look. Her logic and what he knew of humanity weren’t the same. He’d seen plenty of men who beat their wives treat their dogs with care.
“Go on,” Quaide urged her.
She flipped to another photo of a man slouched in his seat. “I’m not sure about this dude. He was really withdrawn, but that doesn’t mean he’s associated with the bomber. He might just not want to be at the meeting.”
Clay studied the image. “Possible, but we’ll run his photo through the facial recognition system.”
She swiped a few more. When she landed on one of herself and a guy with his tongue out and his fist closed in devil horns, Clay stopped her.
“You took a selfie with this guy?”
“Well, yeah, he leaned in. What was I going to do?”
“What’s his name?”
“Jacob. he’s a Sagittarius.”
“I don’t want to know how you found that out. But that at least narrows down his birthday.”
“I don’t think he’s associated with a bomber either,” she said.
“Okay, humor us. Why don’t you think that this guy”—he poked a finger at her screen—“is capable of hate crimes?”
She shrugged. “Just a vibe I got.”
Clay leveled a look at her. “A vibe.”
“Yeah.” She waved her fingers at Quaide. “Help me out here. You know how Clay can be.”
“I can hear you,” he stole Quaide’s line from earlier. “Besides, I’m not beinganyway. I’m just more suspicious than you. Jaded, even. I’ve seen a lot of shit over the years, and there’s a reason why this guy selected me to lead Sentry.” He jerked a thumb at his friend.
Quaide pushed away from the table, obviously finished with the discussion. “We’ll run all the images through the system. Lark, when’s the next meeting time?”
“It was moved two hours earlier to accommodate the funeral.”
