Dammit.McBride is rubbing off on me.
Andrews skims his line of sight around the bar. “Seems like a nice place.”
“It must be.” I pile on, addressing her with overt judgment. “I mean, only hours ago, you were unable to speak through the grief of what happened to your boyfriend. And now, look at you. All dressed up, with your fancy jewelry and fruity drink. Maybe this place is magic.”
Some of the dust clouds from behind her eyes blow away as she realizes what we’re implying. Slowly, she lowers her purse to her lap.
Nope.
I unholster my weapon and set it on the table in front of me. After spinning the muzzle in her direction, I rest my hand on top of it. “Put the purse on the table, and keep your hands where we can see them at all times.”
Her sight falls to my gun and stays there while she shakily complies. Once her empty hands are on the table, she nervously fiddles with an ostentatious black bracelet. The beads click loudly on the Formica table, making my teeth grind.
Andrews leans across the table to move the purse out of her reach.
In an almost fatherly tone, he tells her, “We need to talk, Ginny. Come take a ride with us. As we leave the bar, you won’t do anything stupid, will you?”
Shefinallystops fidgeting with that fucking bracelet. “I won’t. I promise.”
About thirty minutes later, we’re at the regional FBI office. Ginny’s parked in a locked interrogation room where we’ll let her sweat it out before we question her.
Unfortunately, Riddick lawyered up as soon as we had him out of the bar. So he’s en route to lockup, where he’ll stay. No chance of bail, given his history.
After handling a few things in my office, I rise to find Andrews. I need to know what he alluded to earlier about Lila.
I find him filling his coffee in the break room. Crossing my arms, I cut to the chase. “Talk to me about Lila.”
No response or acknowledgment. Without a care in the world, he languidly stirs his coffee for three more seconds.
I savor a deep breath, attempting to keep my frustration and worry in check.
Andrews removes the stir stick from his coffee, tapping it on the lip of the mug before lazily tossing it in the trash can. He keeps his eyes on the dark brown sludge, which is starting to feel like an intentional stall tactic.
Bringing the mug to his mouth, he blows across it, finally meeting my eyes. “Oh, hey, Reed.”
I roll my eyes. “Point made. Now, tell me about Lila.”
He raises his brows, inclining his head slightly.
“Please,” I add, suddenly resembling a scolded child.
“Atta boy. I knew you could do it.” Winking, he pats my shoulder twice. “Join me in my office. You should sit for this.”
Fuck.
I’m too tired for this shit.
This damn day has shoved me through an emotional ringer. Since I barely slept last night, everything seems worse than it probably is.
All I want to do is go home, make love to Lila, then pass out in her arms for about eighteen hours.
ThenI’d talk to her about whatever shit she’s done and figure out how to help her through it.
ThenI’d find out what Ginny was doing in the bar with the man who murdered her boyfriend.
ThenI’d be prepared to hear Andrews tell me about Lila’s crimes.
But nope.
