Page 70 of The Wedding Party

“I need her in my sight,” she states.

“I’m not attempting to talk to your client,” I reply dryly. “I’m ensuring that if anyone starts shooting at her, I have a visual to shoot back.”

She pales. “You think someone is going to start shooting?”

“You want the fame,” I say, eyeing her red blouse and matching lipstick. “It comes with risks. Let’s move.”

“I’m not going to be the target,” she argues.

“You’re not willing to protect your client?” I challenge.

“Isn’t that your job?” she counters.

“Exactly. That’s why you’re going first.” She opens her mouth to object and I hold up a staying hand. “There are police ahead of you, and Carrie will be directly behind you.”

“I’ll go first,” Carrie offers. “If she’s afraid—”

“I’m not afraid,” Ms. Littleton replies. “I’ll go first.” She stiffens her spine, sinks into the expensive winter coat that’s covering her expensive pantsuit, and marches onward, her high heels clicking on the tile.

I motion Carrie forward and she draws a deep breath, distress in her eyes, but she doesn’t complain. Like a good little soldier, she charges onward. York motions them to the rear of the sedan. Ms. Littleton wastes no time climbing inside, under cover, but when Carrie would follow, she pauses and turns to face me. “Are you going to charge me?”

“Are you going to talk to me?”

“I want to. They won’t let me.”

“Unless you plan to be ruled incompetent, you make your own decisions.”

“I’m not incompetent and I’m not a killer. I’ll tell you whatever I can remember. I want to help. I want to catch the killer.”

“I’ll believe that when you actually start talking.”

Ms. Littleton climbs out of the vehicle and steps in front of Carrie, facing me. “I said no conversation.” She rotates and all but shoves Carrie into the car.

Carrie is a hard nut to crack, and not because of her silence.

Because she appears sincere, gentle, and even kind.

But sometimes, looks can be deceiving, which in my book can work for or against her.

I’m still undecided.

Chapter Sixty-One

Everything goes as planned, until it doesn’t.

The ride to the airstrip is short, with me in the front passenger seat of the vehicle and York in the driver’s seat. In light of the small, private airstrip hosting this trip, we haven’t asked for the airport to be closed but for visitors to be limited to those traveling. Once York parks us near the door of the main building, we all exit the vehicle, and he lingers, offering us an escort inside.

I don’t attempt to grab or hold Carrie, and when York makes a move to do so, I wave him off. She’s cuffed. It’s enough. Carrie’s eyes meet mine, appreciation in her stare, an innocent quality to them. I’ve met people like her. People who come off like lambs but are really tigers, bears, or alligators, depending on their flavor of killing.

I motion everyone inside and we find the lobby to be all but empty, which serves us well. We’re met by a staff member, who directs us to a small break room and waiting area, out of the view of the main lobby, and we are quick to make that our destination. With three small tables framed by snack machines, Ms. Littleton and Carrie have a seat. “I’ll go arrange boarding.” This from York, who heads toward the counter.

My phone buzzes with a text, and I snake it from my pocket to find a message from Whit: SOS. You aren’t going to believe this case I’m working on. Come by your pop’s place tonight. You need to hear this.

He’s not luring me into the trap of actually responding. He’s of course trying to do my father’s work and get me over for a visit. It’s only been two weeks. You’d think I’d been avoiding him for months. And the truth is, I’m still pissed at Whit for acting like a dimwit and almost getting us both fired. My father is not the influence he needs right now, and he knows it.

“Problem,” York says, rejoining us. “The pilot’s currently throwing up. They’re having to call in a replacement.”

“Of course they are,” I say, but I’m not all that disappointed. More time means more opportunity to assess Carrie, and once we’re on the chopper, chitchat won’t be possible. “How long are we looking at?”