Page 34 of Mensa's Match

He hurried up to pass me, pulled an about face, and blocked my path. “You need to understand something.”

I stopped and crossed my arms. “What is that?”

“Club lawyer sent me a message. They’re looking for an arsonist.”

“That was clear from the news article.”

I loved and hated how he could say so much by simply lifting an eyebrow.

He kept quiet.

I tossed my hands out in question. “What?”

“Our lawyer didn’t confirm this, but my hunch is they’re looking at you and me both for this fire.”

“That’s insane.”

“No, you’re insane if you aren’t thinking two steps ahead of these people. Why not call you with info about your car? For that matter, how would they even know where you were?”

“I mentioned it when I reported the car stolen.”

He tilted his head back and sighed. “Shouldn’t have done that.” He brought his gaze back to mine. “If the police had your car, they could have called. Sending those two detectives outreeks of a sneak attack or a scare tactic depending on how you reacted.”

One of my eyes narrowed. “Elaborate, please, because I don’t recall having any reaction since you stepped in before me.”

He dipped his chin. “Yeah, and that’s why I did it. They didn’t have much to go on, and Fortner wanting to follow us… no.”

I shook my head. “It doesn’t matter, Mensa. We’re here now. They’re gonna ask me standard procedure questions, get our statements about the shooting last night, and then we’ll be done.”

With care, he put his hands on my shoulders. “That’s what I’m trying to get through to you, Blume. Don’t expect this to go according to procedure. Either one of us could be getting set up right now.”

My head tilted. “That’s crazy, but I’ll keep it in mind, Mensa. Seriously. We didn’t go anywhere near Donny’s restaurant when we took off from Twisted Talons.”

His eyes widened. “Another damn thing that rubs me the wrong way. We fled from a biker who didn’t take pains to keep up with us on I-10. I get that he caught some traffic mid-way, but that’s no excuse for not gaining on us when we hit that bottleneck. He could have caught up once he made it onto the Interstate.”

“You think he gave up?”

“I think him falling back makes us look like we were on the run from a crime. The only thing thatmightwork in our favor is the fact you paid for your snack stash with your credit card.”

My stomach sank. “I used cash, had to dig out my two emergency fifties.”

“Are you shitting me?” he demanded.

I shook my head. “No, but you paid for the gas with your credit card, right?”

He sighed. “I didn’t want anyone to ping my card so I paid with a twenty.”

I sucked my bottom lip between my teeth. “So there’s roughly forty-five minutes to an hour where we can’t prove where we were.”

His eyes slid to the side and back to me. “Not unless that cashier remembers who we are.”

We stared at each other for a moment.

Then a calculating look crossed his face. “Though… how many people buy pajamas at a fuckin’ truck stop?”

I laughed.

He didn’t. “You remember the cashier’s name? Or better yet, you got a receipt?”

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