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“So ... she broke off the affair with Simmons, and he has an alibi. Mitch is at a conference in Las Cruces.” Riley sat forward, resting her hands on the table. “Who did she think she was going to see?”
Deckard sat back, dropping his pen on his notebook. “That is the million-dollar question. Let’s make some calls.”
“I thought you wanted to talk to people in person,” Harper said.
“Most definitely Todd Phillips, given his promotion, or upgrade as you said, and we’ll hit the lab tomorrow, but I think placing a few well-directed calls would give us a head start.”
“Great.” Harper lifted her pen. “Shall we divide up the list?”
“I think calling on speaker would be best. I’ll lead, but if something crops up you want to jump on, go for it.”
She smiled. “Sounds like a plan.”
“I’ll run some records for you,” Greyson said.
“I’ll help,” Riley added, getting to her feet as Greyson did. Excusing themselves, they shut the conference room door behind them.
“Who’s first up?” Harper asked.
“Let’s start with Kevin Gaines. He was the one out sick?”
“Yes.” Her brow furrowed. “But he wasn’t there.”
“Exactly.” Deckard smiled.
THIRTY-SIX
DECKARD SANK BACKagainst the office chair and swung back and forth with the rotating seat. He looked over at Harper, a pen behind her ear, her blond hair wrapped up in some topsy-turvy bun. He smiled. It looked adorable. He might not be interested in having a relationship now,period. But, if he did, he supposed it would be with someone very much like Harper. Intelligent, funny, vivacious, but what he loved most of all was her quirkiness. She was confident in who she was, and that was extremely sexy. But ... he tapped his pen against the legal pad covered with his chicken scratch ... he wasn’t interested in a relationship. Romantic connections meant commitment, and while he had no problem being committed to family, faith, or work, to a person he would one day love like God loved the church? That he couldn’t do. It could bring his demons along for the ride. Until they went away, he stayed away from romance. That was, if they ever went away.
“I don’t know about you, but things are starting to blur,” he said, arching his back.
“Yeah.” She sat back and swiveled too. “I’m starting to confuse facts.”
He glanced at the clock.1930. “Shoot. Riley is going to kill us.”
“Hmm.” She followed his line of sight to the clock. “Yikes. She said seven sharp.”
His sister had left a couple of hours ago to prepare dinner for everyone, and they’d only gotten Greyson out at a decent hour for once by convincing him Riley needed his help making enough grub to feed the slew of them.
They’d only remained behind because his tire wasn’t ready, then time slipped away. No doubt Leroy had left it fixed with the key under the mat.
He exhaled and glanced around at the dark office—only the conference room light shining down on them and the muted glow from Greyson’s small desk lamp. He liked the silence. Stillness.
Stretching, he kinked his neck, then closed the folder in front of him. They’d spent hours upon hours on the phone, interviewing lab tech Marshall Palmer, forensic manager Kevin Gaines, and everyone they could get ahold of save Todd Phillips and Pam Whitmore. Harper had even taken the initiative and placed a call to Councilman Markowitz. While he was focusing on the lab, she was focusing on those who knew Anne.
“We should probably wrap up.” He tapped the legal pad scribbled with notes with his pen.
“I agree, and I’m pretty sure your sister is going to read us the riot act when we get to your house.”
“Yeah. Not going to lie. I’d face a man with a gun before going up against Ri.”
Harper laughed, really laughed, and a crooked smile curled on his lips, her laughter bringing him an unexpected joy.
“Well,” she said, collecting her things into a pile, “I think we made good progress.”
“You can brief me on your call to Markowitz, and I can update you on the items Greyson flagged.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
