Page 37 of Over the Edge

“Since that doesn’t have any bearing on this case, I’d prefer not to talk about it.”

He flipped on the blinker, edged into the exit lane, and thankfully took her cue. “Is there anything else from Friday that has come back to you?”

“Nothing but the brand on the overshoes.”

“What about other clothing details? Or the person’s posture or gait or mannerisms? Anything they did in the brief window you saw them that struck you as odd or quirky or distinctive?”

“No.”

“If any other memory does pop up, please let me know. You have my card, right?”

“Yes.”

He drove in silence for a couple of minutes, then turned onto the side street next to the church where the property detective had said her car was parked. She spotted it at once.

“There it is.” She pointed ahead.

He pulled into the empty space behind it. “Why don’t you verify that nothing is missing before I leave?”

The instant the Taurus came to a stop, she pushed the door open. “I can check, but there wasn’t anything in there worth stealing.”

While she scanned the contents of the trunk and glove compartment, he gave the neighborhood a once-over. “Not the best part of town.”

“But the perfect place for a class about cooking on a budget.” She closed the trunk. “Everything’s here.”

“Is there anyone around when you walk to your car after the class?”

“Once in a while. But I usually get here early and park next to the door by the church hall. Most nights it’s a matter of a few steps to get to my car. I was running late on Tuesday, which is why I parked farther away.”

“Do you carry pepper gel?”

“Yes.” Thanks to South Carolina.

“Smart. You can’t be too careful in today’s world.” He searched her face, his discerning eyes probing—and compassionate. “You doing okay?”

At the sudden crack in his professional persona, pressure built in Lindsey’s throat.

Other than her new friend Madeleine, there was no one who cared about her day-to-day life. Oh, Mom made the obligatory check-in call periodically, but it wasn’t as if they were confidantes. Even after the grocery store incident, there’d been nothing more than a brief spike in the frequency of her calls.

And while she’d made casual friends in college and during her years in South Carolina, relationships were hard to sustain over long distances.

Only Clair had been there for her on a consistent, day-in and day-out basis since her teenage years. Emails, phone calls, texts—they’d touched base every single day even after their jobs took them different directions.

Now she was gone, thanks at least in part to this man.

But you played a role too, Lindsey. You sharea piece of the blame.

Her spirits tanked, as they always did when she faced that truth—and the guilt over her own culpability would plague her the rest of her life.

Now, however, wasn’t the time to dwell on that.

She straightened her shoulders. “I’m fine. Thank you for the ride.”

“Glad to be of assistance. I’ll let you get back to your routine.”

“My routine for the day is already shot.” She tossed her purse onto the passenger seat of her car and slid behind the wheel. “I didn’t get in my morning row.”

He hiked up an eyebrow. “Rowing as in a boat, or with a rowing machine?”

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