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Constance rolls her eyes. “Liar.”
I smile. “Oh, come on, I know I have an effect on women.”
She raises one eyebrow.
“Certainwomen. I’d never dream of lumping you in with that category.”
“Yes, according to Fred Frederickson, I’m very unique,” she says in a dry tone.
“Well, you are very unique, Chaplin. I’ve told you as much.”
She pauses, her eyes leaving mine for a moment. I hold my breath. “Somehow it sounds different when you say it.”
I would hope so. Because when I say she’s unique, I mean it in the best way possible.
“You were working on the calls,” she says with a nod toward the paper in front of me.
“I was.”
“Any new info on the case?”
I shake my head. “Unfortunately not. No DNA matches on the bones yet and with the few comparisons we’ve had made with missing persons, there’s no dice so far.”
“You check those graves yet?” she asks.
“Working on it.”
Constance smiles. “Well, I won’t interrupt any further.”
“Not an interruption.”Never.
Constance gets to her feet and begins to back away from the desk. “Dinner is at six on Friday. So maybe come at like six-twelve or something. Come prepared with a good reason you should stick around. Something that doesn’t have to do with Donna Frederickson, probably.”
“She’s not my type, Chaplin.”
“Not into the married type, huh?”
“That’s just the top of the list.”
Constance tilts her head to the side. “What comes after that?”
Now she’s asking for it. Fine. I’ll deliver. “I prefer the more auburn hair types.”
The moment lingers in the air. Constance blinks. “Noted,” she says. And as fast as she arrived, she disappears.
However, just because she’s out of sight doesn’t mean she’s out of my mind. In fact, she consumes me the rest of the day. No matter how hard I focus, I think about Constance and that one niggling question.
“Like a date?”
Why didn’t I just sayyes?
13
Constance
I stare up at the ornate clock on the mantle. Eleven past six if I’m reading the analog perfectly.
He should be here any minute.
