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“Yes, well, I can’t help you. I only saw him once, and she never mentioned his name.”
Wait a second… “You saw him?”
She realised she’d said too much. “I need to get back to the office.”
How had Kaylin and Anisha been friends? Nico described Kaylin as sweet, and I’d figured she came out of the same mould as Charlotte Peak, albeit several inches taller and slightly more ambitious. True, Anisha was an attorney, which meant she’d spent at least three years in law school learning how to argue, but she’d lost her empathy along the way. Possibly her objectivity too, seeing as she refused to hear what we had to say. Dan said that I’d learn as much from listening to my enemies as to my friends, and I should always let them talk. As long as they weren’t actively trying to kill me, anyway.
“Okay, go back to the office. Hide behind your legalese. We’re going to find Kaylin whether you help us or not, and if she’s innocent, we’ll prove that. And we’ll also tell her that you hindered rather than helped us.”
Now Anisha really bristled, and I noticed a couple of the folks waiting for service were eavesdropping on our conversation. Oh, they were pretending not to, but when the line moved forward without them, it gave the game away.
“Are you threatening me?”
“Nope. Not at all. I’m just saying that we’re not giving up, even though you want us to.”
“I could be fired if I got caught aiding and abetting a criminal,” she hissed, lowering her voice. Had she noticed the eavesdroppers too? “Kaylin isn’t the only one with something to lose.”
“A criminal? So you do think she’s guilty?”
Anisha snatched a package of organic pita chips from the nearest shelf and hugged them to her chest like a shield. As if that would help. I loved pita chips.
“He was approximately thirty,” she said in a barely audible whisper that still managed to sound angry. “Dark hair, Caucasian, and handsome with an arrogant expression that said he knew it.” She closed her eyes for a moment as if remembering. “Average build, and not much taller than her. Well-dressed in a suit and a wool overcoat. I saw them outside the Museum at FIT as I was leaving a client’s office one lunchtime, and he had his arm around her waist. That’s my final word on the subject.”
She pushed past me and stood in the deli line, still clutching the chips as she blanked us. I blew out a long breath. Whew. Questioning people was an art, Dan said, but I still felt as if I were flinging paint at the canvas, Jackson Pollock style, and hoping the result was better than that of a toddler let loose with crayons.
“Sure you don’t want to move to New York?” Collier asked.
“Virginia is my home.” I was shaking. Actually shaking, and my chest felt tight. Did this ever get any easier? New case, new partner, new city, and I was way outside of my comfort zone.
“Shame. What’s next, kemo sabe?”
“Uh…” My mind was blank. We’d questioned our four potential witnesses, and while we had a bunch of information, there were still no concrete clues. “I’ll update everything we have into Providence and see whether the cyber team has made any breakthroughs.”
The hackers. Between them, Mack, Agatha, Mouse, and Ziggy could ferret out almost any piece of digital information we needed, not necessarily legally. Which might have been awkward with me dating a cop, but we operated a “don’t ask, don’t tell” policy. And it wasn’t as if Ford never requested favours.
“Okay.”
“What would you do?” I asked Collier. This was my case, and so far, he’d let me run it, but he had years more experience than I did, and it would be dumb not to take advantage of that.
“What would I do? I’d get lunch.”
“I suppose we do need to eat.”
“Always think better when I’m eating. Calories fuel ideas.”
They did? Perhaps that was why Emmy ate so many cheeseburgers?
“That sounds like a great excuse to order pizza.”
“You want pizza?”
“Is there a good place nearby?”
“In Midtown?” He shook his head and offered me his arm. “Little Italy’s better.”
I looped my arm through his, which I wouldn’t have been able to do six months ago. The healing process was long, but I was getting there, one step at a time. The cab we took to Little Italy was probably slower than the subway, but this was my first proper trip to the city, and I wanted to get the full New York experience. See the hustle and bustle, view the sights, and choke on traffic fumes while our driver yelled at a cyclist who clipped his wing mirror. And as horns honked around me, I mulled over the case. The answer lay here, somewhere among the skyscrapers and eight million strangers. We were hunting for a needle in a haystack, but I’d meant what I said to Anisha: we would find Kaylin.
“How about that place?” I suggested as we climbed out of the cab. The smells wafting out of Mamma Mia’s Pizza Parlor made my mouth water.
