Page 87
“Were you looking for something?”
“No.”
“Running from something?”
“That sounds like a police question.”
“It might be.”
“Then I want a lawyer.”
A small smile touched her mouth.
It disappeared quickly.
I looked at the files in her bag.
“Why homicide?”
Her hands stopped.
“That’s a long story.”
“That’s what I hear.”
She looked up.
For the first time since she entered the tavern, neither of us was a Ranger or a detective.
We were simply two people who had known each other briefly a long time ago.
Then someone knocked on the back-room door.
Carson leaned inside.
“We have a problem.”
Judy’s expression changed immediately.
“What?”
“The seventh victim has been identified.”
“That isn’t a problem.”
“She received a package three days before she disappeared.”
“What kind of package?”
“A bottle of pink fingernail polish.”
Judy went still.
Carson held out his phone.
“There was a note inside.”
She took it.
