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Tia nodded. “Yes. If there’s a change of any kind, I make a note. I also link all the dates to the original email request for easy access, just in case there are any complications or I need to reference something about the event.”
When Tia’s eyes met with Cassidy’s for a final time, Cassidy smiled softly. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Is there a problem? Did Duke reach out to you with an issue?”
“No, just piecing things together. Trying to make sure everything is adding up.”
“Cass, with everything going on, it might do you some good to let me take on a few things.”
“I appreciate it, but I’ve got it all covered.”
Tia nodded. “And what about the case? They figured out anything yet?”
“No, nothing solid.”
“I’m sure that’s not helping much, either.”
“No, it’s not. I’m going to head inside. If I need anything, I’ll reach out.”
“Right, sorry.”
“No need to apologize. I appreciate you checking in.”
While Tia walked back to her car, Cassidy stepped inside and locked the door behind her before leaning against it. Her head rested against the cool, sleek surface, and she closed her eyes, feeling the weight of the world settling onto her shoulders.
There wouldn’t be any answers tonight. Her only plan was to get lost in several bottles of wine while trying to forget that she was now dealing with two losses. One of a husband who’d turned her life upside down and one of a man who temporarily made that same life feel less suffocating.
Davis.
21.
Thirty-two matches to the partial print. All at least a six-point match. Three from minors. All excluding Cassidy. Someone else handled her gun, but who?
Davis glanced at the list of partial matches one last time before flipping the list over out of frustration. A beer landed on the table seconds later, and he lifted his eyes to find Reese settling into the chair across from him.
Reese motioned to the beer with the one he held before turning it up. “My treat. Figured after the day you had, you could use that.”
“Yeah, I could. Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.”
“So, you two fucking or what?”
Davis paused only seconds before the rim of his beer met his lips, delivering a hard stare to Reese. “What the hell?”
“It’s a valid question,” Reese smirked. “Maybe not appropriate, but valid.”
“Damn sure isn’t appropriate.”
“I agree, and if you want to punch me . . .” Davis leaned across the table, and his fist made contact with the left side of Reese’s face.
“What the hell, man?” Reese growled, glaring at Davis, who shrugged nonchalantly.
“You said if I wanted to hit you . . .”
“But I didn’t fucking finish.” Reese nursed his face, flexing his jaw, and Davis shrugged again lazily.
“Figured you were going to tell me to go ahead and do it.”
