CHAPTER 21
“Phillip wasn’t cursing.” For once his voice was under control. The sounds of the bar faded into the background.
She shook her head slowly and peeled off another of his fingerprints, her face unreadable. Almost unreadable. Her very stillness was the giveaway.
“The last thing he told me to do,” he put the scene back together in his head. “With his dying breath, he told me to find you.”
She didn’t even manage a nod. So carefully frozen in place, probably afraid she’d shatter if she looked up from her task.
“And now I have.”
“Other way around.” Her voice was not as clear as he’d bet she wished. He considered pursuing it.
She retrieved the fingerprint he still held, rolled it together with the others in the ashtray, then she flicked a lighter at them. The flame barely licked
