Page 92 of Another Girl Lost

“If that’s possible.” She held up the wine. “Can I pour?”

“That would be great.”

Margo grabbed the wine bottle and filled the two cups. Joining me at the window, she handed me one. “Cheers to me and my new home.”

“Welcome,” I said. The wine was decent if not a tad bitter. “What kind of police work did you do in Northern Virginia?”

“Human trafficking.” She sipped.

“That must’ve been tough.”

“It was. But I’m very good with those cases. I have a knack. Nothing jazzes me more than really busting up a trafficker.”

“Arresting?”

“Sure. They also end up incarcerated.” Margo took a liberal sip. “I have a confession. I know your story.”

The comment was alive with too many unspoken meanings. “Do you?”

“I’m working with Dawson on the Sandra Taylor case. He told me about you.”

I tried to picture her with Dawson and couldn’t marry the two together. “Okay.”

“Tough break for you.”

A powerful understatement. “Nothing you haven’t seen on the job.”

“Still, never easy.”

“No.”

“Your backstory with Tiffany Patterson makes your interest in her odd.”

“Why’s that?”

“Seems you two would keep your distance. You feel like you owe her, don’t you?”

“Why do you say that? I saved her.”

“But you weren’t planning on it, were you? Something broke inside of you in the last moment?”

The assessment hit too close to home. “That about sums it up.”

“And now you’re trying to balance the old wheel of karma, am I right?” Her curiosity was palpable, layered with agendas I couldn’t define.

“Just trying to do the right thing.” The words traveled on a breathy whisper.

“Did you know Sandra Taylor?”

I marshaled a fake smile. “Is this a meet and greet or an interrogation?”

Margo grinned like Della. It was the way the left side of her mouth lifted in a half-sheepish and half-humorous way. “Both, I suppose.”

I set my cup on the counter. “I came to meet my neighbor, not to be interrogated.”

Margo was nonplussed. “We’re drinking wine. We’re getting to know each other. And you’re right: I focus on work too much.”

Hidden agendas bounced between us. “Tell me about yourself.”

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