So did Whitlock, who quipped that he would never turn down a good steak, or Giovanni’s cooking.
As we sat in the living room waiting for dinner to be ready, my attention turned to the logs in the fireplace, cracking and groaning as soft shadows danced across the opposite wall.
Whitlock took another sip of whisky, shot me a wink, and said, “Can’t say I’m used to being invited to dinner by people I catch sneaking out of a house.”
“It wouldn’t be the first time.”
He raised his glass, grinning at me as he said, “And I have no doubt it won’t be the last.”
We both laughed, and when it subsided, he redirected the conversation.
“How about we chat about Vaughn, and the lie you say he told.”
I took another sip of wine, setting the glass down beside me. “Logan never told Vaughn he was going away for the weekend with friends. Vaughn made it up.”
“Any idea why?”
“He said he was protecting his wife, making sure she didn’t worry about Logan not coming home. He told me he planned to come to the department and explain everything to you, but since he hasn’t, I’m not convinced he’ll do it.”
Whitlock leaned back, crossing one leg over the other. “Did Vaughn even have a conversation with Logan before the kid left?”
“Not before he left, but after. Vaughn said Logan called him to say he needed some time to himself. He told Logan not to worry.”
“Was anything else said during the call?”
“If it was, Vaughn didn’t say. He did mention that he’d told Logan not to stay away too long because his mother would get suspicious about why he hadn’t returned home.”
“By now, Logan must know his parents are worried.”
“If they are, they’re not acting like it. Not to me.”
Whitlock shrugged. “Maybe they’re worried and putting on a brave face so you and everyone else think everything is fine.”
“Maybe.”
Giovanni entered the room with Luka at his side, the robust scent of seared meat trailing in behind them. He picked up Whitlock’s glass, topping it off with a generous pour of whisky.
“Dinner’s ready,” he said, handing the glass back to him.
“Too much more of this stuff, and I won’t be able to drive home,” Whitlock said.
“What’s the rush?” Giovanni asked. “It’s not every day I get to enjoy your company.”
Whitlock smiled, and we rose from our chairs, making our way to the table.
As I took my seat, Whitlock jabbed a thumb in my direction. “This one doesn’t know how to take no for an answer. Then again, she never did.”
Giovanni raised a brow, a look of suspicion on his face. “What’s she done this time?”
“Broke into a suspect’s parents’ house while they were out to get a peek inside their kid’s bedroom.”
“Like I said before, there was no breaking involved,” I said.
Giovanni grinned and passed a serving platter filled with grilled vegetables. “And? Did you find anything worth the risk?”
“Funny,” I said, cutting into my steak. “Whitlock asked me the same thing. And yes, I believe I did.”
Both men paused mid-bite, knives resting on their plates, their attention shifting to me in perfect unison.
