She wets her lips with a flick of her tongue. “Okay.”
We pass the rest of the short drive in silence. After I park the truck, I come around to help her down. But this time, there’s an electric charge between us when my hands slide around her waist.
“What’s the dress code for the party?” I ask, grabbing her crutches while she leans against the side of the truck. I’ve already checked my shift schedule to be sure I have the time off. Just in case she needed me.
We walk toward the entrance, heading for the ramp along the side instead of the stairs.
“It’s at the Bitterroot Country Club but keep in mind these are football people, so I would think jeans and a button-down shirt would do just fine.”
I will not be shooting forjust fine, but I don’t tell her that.
“Think you can keep your hands to yourself if I dust off my suit?” The last time I wore a tie was for my day in divorce court three years ago. I might need to enlist Sepp’s help for this.
She barks a surprised laugh. “It takes a lot more than a suit to impress me,” she tosses back, but her cheeks have flushed crimson.
Inside the station, Everett leads us to the interview rooms, but to my disappointment, Meg and I get separated. Thankfully, Ev and Rex Rolland’s questions are routine and don’t steer into the weeds. When I’m released, Meg is already waiting.
“You okay?” I ask, opening the bullpen door for her.
She nods, but her eyes are glazed. “They asked about Russel, and me, like what happened.”
I glance over my shoulder, to where Zach and Everett are deep in conversation. Why would this be relevant?
“And if he has any expensive hobbies.” She shakes her head in disbelief. “And I told them, duh, he’s a pilot.”
I push out the big glass door.
“Did they ask you about Trina’s friend, Stacy?” she asks.
“Yeah. But I haven’t seen her since Annaleise’s party.”
She glances up at me. “Do you think she’s all right?”
“I don’t know.” I definitely sensed Everett’s urgency to find her. But based on what I know about her lifestyle…Stacy’s the least likely person to come forward to help the police.
Outside the building, we nearly collide with Annaleise Bell, who is typing so furiously on her phone she almost brushes past us.
“You guys here about Trina?” she asks, shoving her phone into the back pocket of her jeans.
“Yeah,” Meg says with a grimace. “Not that we have much to offer.”
Annaleise shoots me a pointed glance, then refocuses on Meg. “I think she was dealing at our party. It pisses me off.”
Her jab at someone who is now in the morgue sets my teeth on edge.
“Oh,” Meg says with a wince. “It’s still awful.”
Annaleise’s cheeks pale. “It is. I shouldn’t have said that. Especially now that we know who she is.”
She gives me one last glance before hurrying through the glass entrance doors.
We continue toward my truck, Meg swinging along beside me. “Any idea what she’s talking about?”
A flicker of unease licks up my chest, and I force out a heavy sigh. “I might, yeah.” I also have a feeling Annaleise is Meg’s source regarding me and Vance. I wish she’d show a little discretion. This is my life we’re talking about. Not some juicy scoop that’ll boost her ego.
Meg shoots me a curious glance. “Did you know Trina?”
“No. But I know some of her story.” I gulp a slow breath tostave off the coming buzz this conversation will trigger. “She escaped from a quasi-religious cult up north when she was fourteen. There was…abuse.”
