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“Count me in. You know, there is one downside to this new lead.”
“What?”
“We may have to delay our date—unless you’ve changed your mind about mixing business and pleasure.”
Well, crud. Why had she raised that as an issue?
“Not in theory. In practice, however, I’m wavering. Why don’t we wait and see what turns up this week and hope for a quick resolution?”
“Fingers crossed on my end. Let me know what comes out of your lunch.”
“Will do.”
As they said their goodbyes and Bri ended the call, she stood, plucked her jacket off the chair across from her desk, and strode toward the elevators.
Not that she was in a hurry to see Alison. Their lunch would have been subdued in any case under the circumstances, but her new agenda would likely put a damper on both their appetites.
But maybe ... just maybe ... once Alison got past the shock of seeing her husband’s name on the list, she’d be able to help put this case to rest once and for all—and prevent any more deaths.
TWENTY-SIX
WHAT WAS UP WITH BRI?
As Alison sipped her margarita, she eyed her friend over the salt-encrusted rim of the glass.
Those twin creases on her forehead often showed up while she was talking about a thorny case, but since her initial “tell me how you’re doing” query, all they’d discussed while perusing the menu and placing their lunch order had been the weather.
An innocuous topic if ever there was one. Nothing that should produce worry lines.
Was it possible Bri was fretting about the grieving widow and wondering what she could say or do to cheer her up?
She should put her mind at ease on that score, lighten up the atmosphere, or the pall hanging over the table would ruin both their appetites.
Alison swirled the contents of her glass. “This hits the spot.”
“I’m glad.” Bri offered her a smile that seemed strained around the edges.
“Thanks again for squeezing this lunch into your busy schedule. It helps restore a semblance of normalcy to my life.” She set the glass down and leaned forward. “Tell me what’s going on at work. Hearing about routine stuff will also get my mind off gloomy subjects.”
Instead of dissipating, the furrows on Bri’s forehead grew more pronounced. “It’s been hectic.”
“Par for the course, right?”
“Yes. But I thought ...” Bri straightened her fork. Swallowed. “I thought the particular case that’s on my mind was winding down.”
A muted alarm bell began to ring in Alison’s mind. “Which case?”
“Les Kavanaugh.”
The word that flashed through Alison’s mind wasn’t appropriate for polite company.
Keeping her expression and tone as neutral as she could, she picked up her drink again. “I thought you were out of leads.”
“I was. Until this morning.” Bri folded her hands on the table, her taut features evidence of her distress. “Alison, I hate to add more stress to your life, but I need to tell you about a new development and get your input.”
She took a sip of the margarita. “This sounds serious.”
“It is.” Bri’s knuckles whitened. “The tip that came in was a list of victims who died in fires. Whoever wrote it said they could all be related. Three of them were on Les’s list.” She took a breath. Let it out. “The fourth was Nate.”
