Page 101 of Over the Edge

“Trust me, I’ve been looking over my shoulder for weeks. And as you know from personal experience, I always have my pepper gel at the ready.”

“Stay with that program until we get this case solved.”

“That’s my plan.”

Much as he hated to end the call, she had chores to attend to and he had case reports to bring up to date. Not the most exciting task on this snowed-in Sunday, but he might as well make constructive use of the downtime, as Lindsey was.

“I’ll talk to you soon.”

As they said their goodbyes and he ended the call, Jack gave the landscape outside his frosted window a sweep. The white curtain of falling flakes obscured the view, hiding all details of the terrain beneath a mantle of white. It was easy to see how settlers on the plains back in the 1800s could get lost and freeze to death while walking between their houseand their outbuildings during a snowstorm, despite the fact that all the clues to guide them were close by if only they could see for a few brief seconds through the concealing snow.

A spot-on analogy for the Robertson case.

Surely there were more clues out there that would lead them to the killer. Perhaps within touching distance. All they needed was a break.

But unless they got one soon, whoever had shot James Robertson was literally going to get away with murder.

“EXCELLENTJOB, LINDSEY.Thank you for working this into your schedule.”

At Heidi’s comment, Lindsey turned toward her in the Robertson Properties conference room, where the thank-you lunch was winding down. “I was happy to do it. The menu wasn’t complicated, and I was able to prepare a lot of the food while I was snowbound over the weekend. Plus, my afternoon client yesterday canceled, which gave me some breathing space.”

“However you managed it, everything was delicious. And the treat was much deserved after everyone’s efforts to help me get a handle on things here.” She surveyed the employees who were milling about, sampling the gooey butter cake squares and triple chocolate brownies. Sighed. “It’s hard to focus on business, though, when all I can think about is James—and the questions that remain about his ... his death.” Her voice caught, and she pulled out a tissue. “Sorry. Hard as I try to be businesslike here at the office, sometimes I slip.”

“I’m sure everyone understands.” She started to reach toward the woman to give her arm an encouraging pat. Dropped her hand. Heidi wasn’t the touchy-feely type. “I know the police are working hard to answer all your questions. And I’m also remembering more details that may prove helpful.”

Heidi dabbed at the corner of her eye. “About the person you saw in the kitchen?”

“Yes. I know now that the mark I saw on their arm was a tattoo. I remembered two letters, below the sleeve of the coat. I met with a forensic artist from the police department yesterday afternoon, who was able to reproduce what I saw.” Too bad Jack hadn’t been able to join them, as he’d hoped. But an armed assault took precedence over a drawing session.

“Did the police think that would be helpful?”

“It’s possible. The case detective said there are tattoo databases out there, but I think it will be more useful if they identify a suspect on their own and then see if that person has a tattoo.”

“I suppose any new clue is positive news, no matter how ... oh, Eric! May I borrow you a minute to talk about that strip mall opportunity?”

Lindsey glanced behind her. A fortyish man holding a gooey butter square in one hand and a can of soda in the other stood a few feet away.

“Sure.”

“Lindsey, will you excuse me? I have a pending business decision, and I haven’t had a minute all morning to meet with Eric.”

“Of course. I’ll refill the brownie plate.”

As she moved away, Heidi motioned the man into a corner of the conference room, where the two conversed in low tones.

Lindsey continued to the small adjacent kitchen and began removing the plastic wrap from the last tray of brownies.

Stepping into her husband’s shoes had to be tough for Heidi, but she seemed to be rising to the challenge. And maybe the work was a blessing in disguise, if it kept her from dwelling on—

Her phone began to vibrate, and she pulled it out.

Dara.

A twinge of guilt nipped at her conscience.

Why hadn’t she carved out a few minutes to call her with the definitive news about the tattoo? Putting the young bride’s mind at ease should have been a priority.

“Hi, Dara.” She closed the door to the conference room, muffling the laughter and conversation. “I’ve been thinking about you and Chad. How are you doing?”

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