Shaking his head, Marco dug in his pocket for his keys.“Not at all.They can get better, more damning information from the others.Especially your office busybody.”
Sydney snorted as she imagined Nancy chattering on and on.Considering that was how she behaved during work hours, she’d hop at the chance to sing like a canary on the witness stand.He was right.Nancy was a far superior witness than Sydney ever could’ve been.
Turning toward him, Sydney stuck out her hand.“Thank you.”
Accepting it, Marco gave a firm and quick shake.“My pleasure.I wish every one of my clients were as well trained as you.”
When he winked, she grinned a bit nervously.
What was that about?
Had he figured out that she was actually the murderer, or did he think it was Fink?
Did he care?Why did she?
“I guess that’s it, then?”she asked awkwardly, not really sure what to do.
Marco’s headlights flashed as he reached for the handle of his car.“Pretty much.If they reach out, we can manage that.Though I suspect you’re going to be out of town.”
She smirked.“That depends.How quickly will this thing move?”
He lifted a shoulder in a half shrug.“The case will take a while.Several months, I’d assume, before they bring formal charges.”
Sydney nodded.Yep.She absolutely would be gone—out of state by then.Her smile grew as she recalled exactly where she’d be.Maine.With Fink.Together.Living like a couple and murdering like professionals.Her dream, which she’d had for roughly a week and a half, had come true.
“It was a pleasure, Miss Cassidy,” he said as he climbed into his car.“Hopefully, we never have to see each other again.”
Positively vibrating with excitement, Sydney leaped out of her car, flung the door closed a bit too hard, and trotted up the path to her apartment.She’d done it.Mitchell’s case was behind them.They could move on with their lives.
Whatever that meant.For the first time in a long while, she looked forward to what the days would bring.She’d be with Fink, and they’d be working together, doing something that made them happy.What more could anyone ask for?
People didn’t get that lucky.Especially ones like her.
“Fink?”she called as she entered the apartment, eager to tell him how the deposition went.
Surprised he wasn’t on the couch reading, she checked the kitchen.
Empty.
Pursing her lips and knitting her brows together, she made her way through the small apartment.The bathroom light was on, but the door was open.
“Fink?”she repeated as she approached.
Bent over the sink, wearing only his skivvies, with the shower running, he splashed water on his painted face.
Painted.
Clown makeup clouded the water.
Blinking in disbelief, she stood in the doorway, watching him scrub away his murder disguise.
As far as she knew, he only sported that particular look for one reason.It wasn’t for fun.He didn’t have a kink.That was his uniform—his work attire.
He took a contract without her.
“What the fuck?”she blurted.
47
