Page 88 of Lorenzo

His gaze moves around the office before settling on me. “Are you ready?”

“I was ready twenty-three minutes ago.”

“Then we should go.”

I close the file on my desk and stand.

“I’m driving.”

“No.”

I reach for my bag. “You don’t know where we’re going.”

“But I will.”

“I’m beginning to see a pattern.”

“So am I.”

He opens the office door and waits.

I stop beside him.

“Why are you here, exactly?”

“To make sure you do not walk into another situation alone.”

“I haven't walked into any ‘situations’ alone. You're just a worrywart.”

He looks offended at that description.

“She’s a sixty-two-year-old widow,” I say.

“She is the adoptive mother of a woman who framed my son for murder, and probably killed her own sister.”

“And you think she learned it all from mommy?” I ask sarcastically.

“Could run in the family,” he quips.

I study him.

He is dressed for work in a dark suit and overcoat, looking entirely wrong for a drive into a quiet town outside Chicago to visit a sixty-two-year-old widow.

“You’re going to scare her.”

“I can be charming.”

“Prove it,” I say. I turn to Mocha and call him.

“The dog is coming?” Lorenzo asks.

“Yes. Still want to take your car?”

“I'll just get it cleaned,” he mutters.

“Ah, that charm. I just can't get enough of it.” I close the door to my office and lock it.

He gives me a look as Mocha falls into step beside me.