Changing into sweats and a tee, I grab a beer from the fridge and return to the deck. It’s a nice night. There’s a little chill in the air, but nothing that will bother me. Sitting in one of my lounge chairs, I sip and think about today—about the investigation.
Bryant Falco finally showed up. With his father. And a lawyer.
Strange. Why would he bother bringing a lawyer with him? Unless he’s got something to hide. But in the end, the interview was worthless. He claims he hasn’t seen Kara for months and that they weren’t dating, just sleeping together. He claims she was clingy and, with a nonchalant shrug, added, “She’s kind of a bitch.”
She was. Kind of a bitch, I mean.
When we asked him where he was at the time of the murder, his father interjected, “He was home, with us, visiting.”
It’s not that I don’t believe him, but I don’t believe him. Finch is going to dig a little deeper into Bryant Falco. Hopefully he’ll find out if he was, in fact, back home in Des Moines. Even if he was, it’s only thirty-five minutes away. He could have driven to Ames and back before his father even knew he was gone.
Which gives me an idea.
Me: Did we see anyone matching Falco’s description entering the building that night?
Dan:We weren’t looking for him, but now that we’ve seen him. I’ll look again.
Me:Thanks.
Dan:No problem. Now quit working and have a beer.
Me: Yes, sir.
Dan:Good. Life’s too fucking short. You take this job too seriously, trust me, you’ll wake up and what you considered your real life is gone.
Wow, that’s the most the guy has ever said to me. And it was personal.
Me:Got it. Thanks. **says as he takes a drink of beer**
Dan:Ha. Good.
Placing my phone on the arm of the lounger, I lean back and sip my beer, wondering where the hell my girl is. I’d call her, but she doesn’t have a phone.
“Shit.” Now I’m going to worry.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Daisy
Iget home around nine, much later than I’d anticipated, but it can’t be helped. I had things to take care of today. Things that took time. “Hello?” I ask as I step into the house. “Gage?”
“In here.”
By that I assume he means the bedroom since he’s not in the living room or kitchen. With bags in hand, I stop in the spare bedroom and am about to set everything on the bed but notice the cat’s asleep right in the middle. I’m not sure how I feel about that. Does he really need a cat? He’s got me now.
Giving the yellow creature my best evil eye, I set the bags on the floor. When I turn, I catch a glimpse of myself in the little mirror above the dresser. I feel a gasp is in order because I look like I’ve been caught in a wind tunnel. My hair’s a mess, my shirt’s wrinkled, and my leggings… well, they’re fine. I quickly search for my hairbrush to work out the knots and tangles. It hurts, but I get it done in no time.
Stepping up to his bedroom door, I knock.
“Why are you knocking?”
I jump, startled, because I didn’t expect him to open the door. Placing my hand over my heart to get it to calm down, I laugh. “Wow. You scared me.”
“Sorry.”
It’s right then I notice Gage. Well, I notice what he’s wearing: a pair of dark gray sweatpants. Nothing else. The heat of a blush creeps up from my neck onto my cheeks. I know I shouldn’t be blushing because I’ve seen this man naked, but still….
“You blushing, honey?”
