“This is Riley and my dog, Charlie. Let me get Charlie settled. Can you meet us in the restaurant?” Josh waved a hand straight ahead.
The agents took their leave.
While Josh escorted Charlie to his dog bed, Riley ducked into the ladies’ room. She needed to splash cold water on her face to calm the nervous nellies eating her stomach alive. She was eager to hear what the FBI had to say. Yet she was afraid they had bad news.
They hadn’t told Taylor anything bad had happened to Liza. Taylor wasn’t family, though, and Josh was. Riley was assuming too much. It was so like her to think the worst.
She inhaled deeply, going through some quick meditation techniques. She always loved to meditate in the confines of her living room, which had an incredible view of Boston, although she was quickly changing her tune about city life. The ocean and the small town of Redwood were growing on her fast.
With one last deep breath, Riley coated her face with water, patted it dry with a paper towel, and deposited the towel in the trash.
The door squeaked open.
“Riley.” Josh’s husky voice echoed in the sterile room. “Are you in here?”
She giggled. His voice was like warm butter, melting her in all the right places. Yeah, she was falling for him, and if he kept holding her hand and touching her, Mr. Bandon might get his wish.
As soon as Riley met Josh in the lobby, he cupped her elbow. Always the gentleman, she was finding.
Wallace and Dennison were drinking coffee at the table she had commandeered for the last few days in a quiet corner of the restaurant that had a breathtaking view of the ocean. It was mid-afternoon, so only a patron or two hung out at the bar, watching a baseball game on the big-screen TV.
Both agents rose when they laid eyes on Riley. Josh pulled out a chair next to Wallace, the tall agent whose dark hair was cut thick on top and shaved on the sides and back, much like Josh’s. Dennison, on the other hand, had wavy reddish-orange hair that curled around his ears.
As Josh eased down into the chair across from Riley, he said, “Riley is my cousin Liza’s best friend, and she’s in town from Boston. I hope you don’t mind if she joins us. That is, if you’re here to ask about Liza Bandon.”
Dennison had his coffee cup to his lips. “We are. And we’re hoping you can answer some questions.”
Sadly, they weren’t going to get much new information.
Wallace started in. “We’re from the Boston office. Do either of you know where Liza is?”
Riley let out a nervous laugh. “I was hoping you could tell us.”
“The last we both heard from Liza”—Josh wagged a finger between him and Riley—“was last Thursday evening. When I spoke to her, she sounded like something was bothering her. I chalked it up to her working late, which she’s been known to do.”
“She sounded tired to me,” Riley added. “And she and I were supposed to spend a few days together. I’m worried out of my mind. So are you here because of Stefano Moretti?”
Wallace glanced at his partner, but Riley couldn’t tell if he was trying to mind-speak or not. Then he took a sip of his coffee. “I’ve been working the Moretti case for over two years. I was the one who questioned Liza after the raid on his company. Back then, she didn’t have much to tell us, and we hadn’t been able to find any evidence to hold Moretti on anything then. But over a week ago, right before Moretti was arrested again, she left me a message and said she needed to talk and that it was urgent. I’ve tried to reach her, but she’s either had a change of heart, or someone spooked her.”
“Do you have any idea what she wanted to talk about?” Josh asked.
Wallace bit the inside of his cheek. “I wish I did. I’m speculating, though, that she has some information on Moretti. Whether it’s new or old, I don’t know.”
“So you think she’s still in contact with Moretti?” Riley doubted it.
“Maybe, or maybe someone else who works for him,” Dennison piped in.
Riley held one of her nails hostage between her teeth. “If it helps, Liza still talks to a gal by the name of Haley, who worked or maybe still works for Moretti.”
Dennison jotted down some notes on a pad he’d removed from his suit pocket.
Josh rubbed his stubbled jaw. “One of the notes on Liza’s desk was to call Haley and a Monroe.”
“I’m Monroe,” Wallace said.
Maybe the puzzle pieces were falling into place, but Riley didn’t know how yet. It was looking as though Liza had some information to share with the FBI, or maybe Haley did. Come to think of it, maybe Haley was the woman Grayson had heard Liza arguing with.
“Do you have a last name?” Dennison asked.
