12
We drove down the winding road with the whisper of a small breeze. Ambigo glanced at me. “Did you recognize this woman you saw?”
I leaned back and furrowed my brow. “Yeah. I saw her in the drug store yesterday afternoon. The owner called her Bertha.”
Ambigo raised an eyebrow and glanced over his shoulder. “I see.”
I frowned and leaned toward him. “I can see, too. You’ve got to spill a scoop to a reporter when she’s the one holding it.”
Ambigo sighed and returned his attention to the dark road. “We can’t be sure it’s her-”
“But you are,” I interrupted.
“Is she elderly, about eighty?” he asked me.
I nodded. “About there, and she seemed pretty friendly with the owner.”
Ambigo pursed his lips and glanced over his shoulder at Troy. “Does that sound like Bertha Aude to you
