Willow and I each start at one end of the appointment book, quickly photographing the pages with the lists of names. I barely register them. Her head is almost touching mine. Her hair tickles my cheek every time she turns a page, our fingers brushing as we hurry to collect the evidence, trying to photograph as many pages as we can before Winston tells us we have to go.
“Oh, shoot, the chief’s back from vacation early.” Winston jumps up. “You have to go.”
I grimacewhen we step back into the cold.
“I didn’t get all of the pages.” Willow adjusts her scarf.
“We have a pretty good list, though.”
We scroll through the photos as we stroll through the Christmas market.
“Well, here’s Taylor Grace, obviously. There’s Donna Reeves—she runs one of the ornament stalls, I think.”
“It would be helpful to know how he actually died,” I muse.
“Hanging, you think?”
“If it’s hanging, Lenore couldn’t have done it, right?”
“Unless she had a helper.”
“Dr. Merriweather could have multiple affair partners.”
“She could have convinced someone to do it.” Willow blows out a breath and wraps her arms around herself.
“Hey, do you want to go grab—I was going to say coffee, but you’re probably tired of it. Maybe pizza and a beer, and we can look at our potential evidence?”
“Oh. I can’t.”
For some reason, I feel disappointed. Why? It’s not like I was asking her out. Or was I? That can’t be right.
“I have to go help Gran with the prep for the ugly-sweater party tomorrow,” she explains. “You’re coming, right?”
“I think I’d be drawn and quartered if I didn’t. I hear it’s the event of the holiday season.”
She reaches up to pat my chest then tug at the lapels of the too-thin trench coat. “Well, stay warm.”
“You don’t think…” I trail off.
“What?”
“Ah, never mind.”
“What?” she insists.
“Uh, just need to figure out where I’m going to live tonight.”
“You need to go to Costco and buy a garden shed.”
“Guess there’s not room enough for two?” I joke.
“Unless you really want to get cozy.”
Part of me wants to say I do.
“If you want—and I can’t believe I’m saying this—you can crash in my shop. If you want.”
“Really?”
