Page 34 of To Have and to Hold

“Why’s that?”

“Because he’s a pretty boy,” she said, then caught herself. “Not in a wimpy way. Okay yeah, in a wimpy way. He likes staying clean, staying rich—his parents come from mad money. He gets manicures, gets his brows waxed. Dave loves being polished, and not just his shoes. He’d never put himself in danger in this way. Why abduct his fiancée? It makes no sense.”

I glanced down at the notepad I’d pulled out at the beginning of our second cup. I couldn’t help but scrawl, why does Emme love this guy?

Becca must’ve sensed my confusion. She continued, “But he loves her. You can tell immediately when he looks at her. I’m talking romance movie crap. When he spots her across the room, it’s like Take My Breath Away starts playing throughout the atmosphere. Dave dotes on Emme, and she really cares about him. She’s comfortable. Happy. These two would probably rival you and your girlfriend as the rising power couple of New York City. What’s her name, by the way?”

I circled HAPPY in my notes. It was at least the sixth time Becca had used the word. “Emme never told you about any debts Dave might’ve owed? Gambling? Drugs? Anything like that?”

“God, no. Like I said, polished. Squeaky clean. So, what’s her name?”

“Right.” But I would still make sure to talk to this guy face-to-face, satisfy my curiosity. Catch any cues of deflection or lying. “I think we’re done. Thank you for the coffee.”

“Still harboring that air of mystery, I see.”

I stood up, giving her a wry side-eye on the way.

“I asked you a question. What your girlfriend’s name was.”

“Noelle.”

Becca cocked her head. “Pretty.”

“You’d like her,” I added. Unnecessarily. No one’s steady gaze ever managed to get me to add superfluous details.

“I’d say I’d like to meet her, but you know, best friend loyalty and all that.”

She’d nudged a smile out of me. “Still obsessed with zombies?”

“You know it.” She pointed to the entertainment system, where somehow, her flat screen TV was surrounded by a giant white Baroque frame. Lines of DVDs were shelved underneath, likely all relating to one apocalypse or another.

“Nice,” I said as I slipped on my blazer. “You haven’t changed, Becs.”

“You have.”

I settled the suit jacket across my shoulders with smooth, nonplussed precision. “It was really nice seeing you.”

Becca unfurled her legs. “I’ll admit, you were a nice surprise today, amidst all this…horror. I’m sorry I gave you a hard time. I’m glad you’re out there looking for her, too.”

Her eyes welled up, and I took that as my cue to stop draining her for details. First the police, then me. Becca needed rest. “I’ll be seeing you.”

“Wait,” she said as I made it to the door. “Where are you going? What are you doing next?”

I shoved the notepad in the interior pocket of my suit, and told Becca the truth. She deserved it. “Probably back to the scene. I want to talk to anyone in the vicinity that might have seen or heard anything.”

“Great!”

The bubbly response had me turning my head in suspicion. As I suspected, Becca had bounded to her closet and was swiping her coat off a hangar.

“What do you think you’re doing?” I asked.

“Going with you, obvs.”

“No, you’re not.”

She shrugged on her leather jacket then topped it with a scarf so large it was a blanket that made her head disappear. “Yes, I am.”

“No. You’re not.”

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