Andrea freezes with fear and slowly shakes her head. Andrew just rolls his eyes and smiles his crooked smile.
“Don’t bother lying to me,” he says. “I can smell his cologne all over you. And whiskey too, if I’m not mistaken. Besides, you’re a mess. Your hair is tangled, your lipstick is smeared and there’s a bite mark on your shoulder.”
Andrea clenches her hands into fists and says, “If you knew where I was all along, why did you bother asking me?”
“I wanted to see if you’d lie,” Andrew says, sniffing his cigar again. “I’m risking my life for you, and you’re sneaking around behind my back and lying to me.”
“I—I,” Andrea stammers.
The image of the bloody doctor flashes through her mind. She wants to ask Andrew why he killed the man, but she doesn’t want him to know she saw. He’s dange
