“That’s not public information, is it?”
“No. And I’m not sure how much longer our source is going to bend rules for us. But that PR firm they worked at together? It was small. Less than fifty people.”
“That doesn’t mean anything.”
“If she didn’t have any experience with police investigations, I’d be inclined to agree with you. But she’s got a history of clients with police run-ins. Admittedly more of the DUI or possession variety, but…”
“Right. She’s got experience with guilty parties and police investigations. She’s got no experience with an investigation that has no leads.”
“Police might bring her in for more questioning. Tell her to be straight with them.”
“Should she get a lawyer?”
“I don’t think so.” He doesn’t sound convinced. “If it comes to that, my source should give a heads-up.”
“Copy that.” There’s nothing worse than cops without leads. “How’d the boss take it when you told her there’s been no movement on the Magpie case?”
We agreed in our team meeting yesterday that we have zero evidence of threats on Alicia Morgan related to the Magpie case.
“Caroline understands. She wants security in place through the congressional hearings—at least until after Alicia testifies. Once she testifies, Caroline believes she’ll be in the clear.”
“Got it,” I say.
“You good through the weekend?”
“Yes. Alicia canceled her social plans tonight. She’s planning to stay in during the deluge.”
“Anything changes, reach out.”
After the call, I work out, shower, and try to nap, but can’t. Person of interest. Board member. The pieces don’t fit what she told me.
I wait until lunch before heading upstairs, giving myself time to decide whether to bring it up.
Rain lashes the glass, a steady percussion confirming the storm hasn’t let up. All the blinds are still down, so it’s dark. The only lights are the motion-activated lights in the kitchen and a lamp beside the sofa. The smell of coffee hits me before I see her. She’s curled up on the sofa, a blanket pulled to her waist and a book in both hands. Something about the image is disarmingly unguarded. Not the version of her I’ve seen all week.
She looks up when I come in, one finger marking her page.
“Morning,” she says.
I nod toward the windows. “Rain’s not letting up anytime soon.”
“I know.” She tucks the blanket higher. “Good excuse to do nothing.”
When thunder rolls close enough to rattle the glass, she flinches, and for a second, I see the truth she’s been holding together all week. She’s uneasy.
“Do you need anything downstairs? I didn’t check—” Her legs hit the floor like something important has come up.
“Rest. I’m good,” I reassure her.
She slowly pulls her legs back beneath the throw, reluctant, like she’d rather not.
“You’re not used to staying still, are you?” I ask quietly.
Her smile’s faint. “No. Stillness gives you too much time to think.”
“You look comfortable,” I say.
“I can’t get into this book,” she admits, smiling faintly. “No meetings. No phone calls. Just rain.”