“Wait, there’s a blizzard coming?”
“Don’t you watch the news? They’re all talking about the storm front moving in. It’s supposed to be quite serious.”
“Never did have much use for tracking the weather.” Cillian lifted his thermos of lukewarm coffee from the drink holder. “It is what it is. But why are you still holding the dinner if there’s a blizzard coming?”
“Father’s birthday dinner has never been canceled, at least not in my lifetime.”
“Of course it hasn’t.” Cillian rolled his eyes. “That doesn’t mean you have to get there four hours early, does it?”
“I need to navigate traffic to go home and change, and then take the ingredients for the meal to my father’s house and prepare it.” She turned her head toward the windshield as her tone changed, like she was talking to herself. “I need to make sure Treese’s decorations are acceptable and appropriate. I probably should have done that yesterday. And I hope she remembered the Caesar salad.”
“I forgot you guys get gussied up for this big event. Did you buy a new dress for it? I’d love to see.” Cillian grinned, letting his male interest show.
“It’s an old dress, actually.” Her disapproving expression said she couldn’t care less if he was interested, but the color that infused her cheeks told another story.
“Still want to see it.”
Her eyebrow arched. “Well, you’re not going to, and we’d better head out now.” She ducked slightly to see past him out the driver’s side window. “He’s apparently staying indoors the rest of the day.”
Cillian shook his head. “No, he’s up to something. He left work at one. He usually leaves at five or six. And he drove around to the back of his own house to park here instead of in the garage. He’s going to make a move, and he doesn’t want the police to see it.”
“You could be right. But I can’t stay the rest of the?—”
“Hold it. We’ve got action.”
The back door opened, and Clinton Glenn stepped outside, wheeling a suitcase behind him. Another large bag was slung over his shoulder.
“He’s running.”
“It does appear that way, but…” Her voice came from close to Cillian’s shoulder. She must be leaning forward to see out his window better.
He forced himself to focus on the fleeing suspect and ignore the temptation to turn his face toward Victoria and?—
Glenn put his luggage into the trunk of his Mercedes. He glanced around, like he was checking to see if he was being watched.
Didn’t seem to notice them parked under a large tree on the opposite side of the street.
Glenn hurried to the driver’s door and ducked into the car. He started the engine and pulled out of the driveway, swinging onto the road fast.
“Here we go. Better call the police.” Cillian shifted into drive and started after the curator, resisting the urge to match his speed and get too close.
“Are you sure?”
He glanced at Victoria.
Concern dipped her eyebrows.
“Ask for Lieutenant Willis. Tell him you’re with me and about everything we just saw. He’s had a chance to review the evidence on Glenn now. I don’t think he’ll suspect you of anything for tipping him off that the suspect is running.”
“But we don’t know he’s running.” Hesitation colored her tone.
“He has luggage, Vicks. He’s at least going away on a trip. But after what I said to him, we both know he’s running from the cops and maybe us.”
She let out a sigh.
“Just pretend you’re talking to your dad.”
She shot him a surprised glance, and he answered with a smile. “Fine. But don’t do anything dangerous or illegal while I’m on the phone.”
