For a moment, she thought he might say she was. He seemed uncomfortable with her here. He’d been so anxious to talk about the case in Seattle—until her breakdown. She regretted it since there seemed to be a wall between them now. He was treating her as if he had to walk on eggshells around her. She wanted to scream. Or cry. Neither would accomplish what she’d come here for, though.
“I’m not going to blow your cover, if that’s what you’re worried about.” She moved to the table set against one wall. Dropping the manila envelope on it, she removed her coat, hung it over the back of the chair and sat down.
“So, have you found her co-killer?” she asked. Might as well talk about Caligrace Westfield, since she was already in the room and clearly on Rourke’s mind.
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