She laughs darkly. “Not even a Christmas card.”
“Other boyfriends? Recent breakups?” I prod.
“No. I’m too busy being a single mom, getting my nursing degree, and working long shifts to deal with dating drama. I have absolutely no time for men with their little dick energy.” She cringes. “Sorry.”
“No offense taken,” Andrews interjects, holding back a chuckle at her colorful language. “Dana, does your mother date?”
“Not to my knowledge. She’s a homebody. Either she’s working or with Ava. She talks to a few female friends from time to time. I never hear her talk about men.”
“And her ex-husband? Would that be your father? How is that relationship?” I ask.
“Yes. That would be my father. And I guess they’re normal for a divorced couple. They don’t really talk much.”
“Was the divorce contentious?”
“A little heated at first. But that was more than five years ago.”
We pepper her with questions for several minutes, asking about the people in her life, her work associates, business dealings, and so on. Unfortunately, she gives us a lot of nothing.
In a last-ditch effort to get her to be more forthcoming, I go with an open-ended question. “If you had to guess, why do you think your house was hit?”
She doesn’t even blink or pause before declaring, “I haven’t the foggiest idea.”
My phone buzzes with an incoming message a split second before my partner’s does the same. He grabs his phone to see who it is. Since he’s doing that, I return my focus to Dana. Something in my gut is prodding at me to dig deeper.
Andrews taps his hands on the table, turning his body toward me. “Check your phone.” He shifts to face Dana again, asking her how long she’s worked here.
Retrieving my phone from my pocket, I review the new text message.
Romero:
Once you said Oak Winds Casino, it triggered something in the back of my mind from the Missouri case I was reviewing. The homeowner vic there works on a riverboat casino. I checked the other files. So far, three additional victims have connections to casinos. I’ll let you know what else I find.
Well, fuck.That can’t be a coincidence.
Andrews peppers Dana with more questions about her job history. Silently, I study her body language. She’s not relaxed, but also not jumping out of her skin. Aside from her initial shock at our unexpected appearance, she’s been relatively calm.
Yet something isn’t right with her.
How involved is she?
Glancing at my phone, I swipe to the photo of the perp from the Cocoa Beach incident and slide it across the felt-covered table. “Do you recognize this man?”
She barely looks at the photo before her spine stiffens. “Nope. Never seen him before.”
Beside me, Andrews rolls his neck around his shoulders, which is his signal for me to probe farther. As if I wasn’t going to with a reaction like that. She’s clearly lying.
Maybe Lila isn’t coloring my suspicions after all.
Holding her eye contact, I ask, “Do you know a man named Elliot Riddick?”
She doesn’t pause to think. Just spits out the answer in the same flat tone she used when she lied about the photo. “Nope.”
Instead of continuing right away, I let silence settle between us intentionally.
As expected, her gaze darts around, alternating between Andrews and me. “Anything else?”
“What about Silas Everson?” I press.
