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I ask, “Did he ask for anyone?”
She shakes her head. “Nope. But I had this weird feeling I’ve seen him somewhere.” Her fingers scroll over her phone screen.
Claudia is always willing to talk for hours when I don’t want to listen. Now when I want to know every single detail of what went on, she’s suddenly tight lipped, her attention elsewhere.
“Can you at least put that phone down?”
“Nope.” She keeps scrolling.
“Claude—”
Just when I’m about to lose my shit and kick her out, she holds up her screen to show me something. “See. Look.”
My forty-year-old eyesight letting me down, I take the phone from her so I can get a closer look.
“I told you to get yourself some readers,” she mumbles.
“I do not need glasses.” I scan the article.
Man Escapes from Welsh Prison
The site looks like one of the True Crime blogs she’s obsessed with. Her and her fifty shut-in online friends thinking they can solve cold cases in their spare time while drinking copious amounts of wine and ignoring any interactions that might lead to a real relationship.
Relief. This man’s visit probably has nothing to do with Lily. Unless Claudia’s wrong and it’s not a man from a Welsh prison.
“Why would someone possibly escape from a UK prison, make it all the way to New York City, then come to our office?”
“He’s probably seeking the protection of the Bachmans. Why else?”
“I doubt that’s the man that you saw today.” I shake my head. “You listen to too many true crime podcasts, sis.”
She’s so sure of herself as she speaks. “Oh, it’s him. I’m sure of it. I’m alerting all security tomorrow morning to let them know what we’re dealing with.”
But we’ve been down this road before…
“Can we please look over the security camera footage first? Me, you, some coffee. We’ll look over the tapes and make sure this is the guy you saw before…”
“Before I make a fool of myself again?” she snaps. “Last time that girl totally looked exactly like missing baby Lucy from the Catskills. Even you admitted they could be twins!”
“But it wasn’t baby Lucy, was it? It was a paralegal from Wentworth’s who grew up in Milwaukee but just happened to have the same scar over her right eyebrow. And you had our entire team searching the city for her only to find the woman and scare the absolute shit out of her when we did.”
“Okay, okay. That was a royal fuckup. I admit it.” She takes the phone from me, tapping her fingernail against the picture of the escaped convict. “But this is him. I’m telling you.” Finally, she stands, grabbing her purse to go. “And when we have coffee tomorrow morning, you’re going to see that I’m right.”
She lifts her glass to her lips, downing the last of her wine. I’ve almost got her out the front door when the sound of an adorable, petite sneeze comes from upstairs.
“What.” Claudia’s head snaps over her shoulder to face me. “Was that?”
“Nothing. Must be that air filtration system Rockland had added.”
She goes into detective mode. “Nope. No, it wasn’t. That was most surely a very feminine sounding sneeze, coming from your second floor living room.” She eyes me. “But you never have women over.”
“I do alright,” I say.
“No.” She shakes her head. “I mean you never, ever have women over. Who is it?”
“No one.”
Her eyes flash. “It’s her, isn’t it? Our hot little front desk girl.”
