For long moments, neither of them spoke. There was so much more she wanted to say to him, but she knew it would have to wait.
Finally she said, “Maybe we were safer at the Ritz-Carlton.”
“No, I’d be jumpy there, too. Like every time a maid knocked on the door or someone came in to check the minibar.
He got up and walked around the cabin, closing all the curtains.
“I’m tired of feeling like I have a target on my back,” she said.
“Yeah. Like I said to Teddy, I’d be happier if this boat were a cabin in the woods, but that has its disadvantages, too.
“You said you didn’t want to just hide out. What’s the plan?”
He sighed. “I’d like to get some information from the cops.”
“But from the sound of your voice, you think that’s too problematic.”
“Well, if you said you were the niece of the guy whose house burned down and wanted information, you’d run into problems. You don’t want to tell them you were in there and heard guys beating up your uncle, then murdering him. And you don’t have any identification. For all they know, you could have read about a rich guy’s house getting burned down and now you’re working some angle.”
“Right,” she answered. The conversation was driving home how hard it was for him to investigate her uncle’s murder. “But I’m being a pain in the ass,” she said.
“No.”
“Not even if I want to go to that bar with you?”
To her relief instead of forbidding her to get involved, he said, “Well—we need to set up some ground rules.”