“A little. What about you?”
“SEALs train to operate on less sleep when it’s required.”
That didn’t answer my question, but I dropped it. “How long do you think it will take to catch him?” That was my real question, the one that mattered.
He grabbed a paper cup and started the coffee machine.
Grabbing two ice cubes from the break room fridge, I added them to my mug and stirred because I needed this coffee stat. “How many is that?”
“Four, I think.”
I had my answer. Caffeine was the crutch Zane also used to handle sleep deprivation. He was mortal.
I gulped half the cup before I reached my desk.
Zane followed and waited until I sat to give me the bad news. “Sergeant O’Connor is coming by to complete your interview.”
I rolled my eyes. “Great. How long will that take?”
“No idea.” That was not the answer I wanted to hear.
“Good morning, Ms. Clarke.”
I dragged my eyes up.
Zane had brought O’Connor to my desk, just as he’d warned me.
Talking to the detective wasn’t at the top of my list, or anywhere on my list, but it had to be done. “Morning, Sergeant, and Leighton will do.”
Nearby, Marci looked puzzled.
I hadn’t asked, but I assumed Terry had told Grace about my name. ButI hadn’t briefed Marci or anyone else in the office about my real name or what had happened to make me flee Boston.
Marci moved closer, her face twisted up. “Leighton?”
“Just a moment.” Ignoring the detective’s raised hand, I hurried to my coworker. “I’m sorry, Marci. I totally forgot I was supposed to locate the chamomile tea in the break room for you. Let’s go. I know it’s in there.” I towed her toward the room with a firm grip.
Luckily for me, she got the hint and waited until we reached the break room to demand, “What’s going on? Sergeant? I thought you’d already talked to the police about the attack.”
I’d told her I’d had a run-in with some bad people when I went to retrieve my bike in the wrong part of town, but nothing about the explosion and fight at Zane’s house.
“I’ll explain later, but my name is Leighton Clarke in front of him.”
“I don’t understand. Why lie to him?”
“I can’t explain right now.” If there was a reason Lucas didn’t want to reveal my Los Angeles name to the detective yet, I was going to trust his judgment.
“Why?”
Hearing footsteps coming down the hallway, I grabbed the stepstool and climbed up to reach the tea cupboard.
“Why?” Marci repeated. This was not a good time for her curiosity.
I pulled out a box of chamomile teabags just as the detective entered the room.
“Do you have any coffee to spare?” he asked. “Jet lag is a bitch.”
“Sure,” Marci answered. Her natural helpfulness overpowered her curiosity just in time. She marched to the coffee machine.
