Page 56 of Deep Tide

“Or maybe she had a rich boyfriend,” Emmet said.

She glanced up. “I thought you didn’t like my boyfriend theory?”

“I didn’t at first. But there could be more to it.”

“Oh yeah? What?”

He leaned against the doorframe again, blocking the opening with his wide shoulders. He was standing close enough for her to smell his cinnamon gum. She looked at his mouth, then turned away.

“I’ve been working on that phone number we haven’t been able to identify,” he said. “The one that was in her phone records and also written on that matchbook? I think it was a no-contract phone.”

She replaced the shoes in the box. “So, someone was calling her on a burner.”

“Looks like. A total of eight calls, starting with the night of Saturday, February sixteenth of this year.”

“Maybe it’s a drug connection,” she said. “Or a pimp. Who else would need a burner?”

“Someone who’s married? Maybe he’s got a phone his wife doesn’t know about?”

“Hmm.”

“Also, most of the calls were at night on a Friday or a Saturday, some of them late.”

“So, booty calls.”

“Could be.”

“Interesting.”

“I think we should interview some of her girlfriends, see if we can get more details about her social life,” Emmet said.

“I already interviewed them.”

“Let me take a crack at it.”

She bristled. “You’re saying I missed something?”

“Don’t get defensive. It never hurts to talk to people a second time.”

She looked at him without responding. She knew he was right. She also knew that he had a knack for getting female witnesses to open up. It was a certain brand of easygoing charm that—when combined with his surfer-boy good looks—some women found irresistible.

Emmet’s talent with witnesses was an asset she shouldn’t ignore. Still, it was going to really irk her if he managed to get something she hadn’t.

But whatever. At this point, she needed all the help she could get, especially with Owen barred from helping with the investigation.

“Fine,” she said. “Talk to them again. See what you find out.”

He nodded. “I’ll make the rounds this afternoon.”

She replaced the top on the box and slid a look at him. This was the longest conversation they’d had in days, and she felt like things were almost normal again.

“So... are you still pissed at me?” she asked.

“Who said I was pissed at you?”

“You’ve had a chip on your shoulder ever since Brady made me lead on this.”

“I haven’t had a chip on my shoulder.”

---