CHAPTER
Drisklay wished he was back at work. Why had he ever let his wife talk him into flying out to Las Vegas of all places? And right now of all times. It wasn’t just the Linklater case he was working on. His desk back in Boston was covered with files of missing persons and murdered victims.
Did he ever ask Caroline to take an entire week off of teaching? Of course not. She had no idea what kind of mental energy it took to do the kinds of things he did.
And he did them well.
At least, he could when he was at his office.
He’d been on the phone that evening with Alexi, his partner back in Boston. Apparently, Margot Linklater had called 911 in the middle of the night, drunk as the mascot in a St. Paddy’s Day parade and claiming that her ex-husband’s new wife had murdered their daughte
