CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Ilse took a long sip from the cooling espresso sitting in the small, wooden holder in front of her. Sawyer had opted to sit at different booth, off to the side. He’d cited proximity to the outlet, but Ilse wasn’t so sure.
For now, though, she was too focused. She’d borrowed the laptop from the agency and was now scanning the results on her search page.
The coffee shop was small and exuded the familiar fragrance, primarily of the drip brew the local shop was known for. Due to the early nature of their attendance, morning commuters came in and out, fetching their daily dose of energy in egg-carton textured cup holders. The tables themselves were made of what looked like driftwood coated in some protective finish. The chairs and booth seats were comfortable and padded with
