Page 25 of Wicked Sin

“Of course. Follow me, please.”

I don’t know what the hell they are talking about. That was an exchange about literally nothing. But we follow him, and we’re shown to a private room as requested, so apparently, the fact that her family is imploding doesn’t make a whiff of difference for her pull in this city she left years ago.

Fascinating.

Before the manager leaves us alone, Taylor wraps her hand around his forearm and leans in. I catch her words, even as she clearly means for him to think they are for his ear only. “Is Mikhail working today? Or any of my mother’s favorites?”

“Ah.” The manager looks visibly uncomfortable. “I am afraid your mother has not been here in some time. And all of her favorites have left our employ.”

“My goodness. Well, all right then. What else has changed? Do you still have that delicious caper salad?”

Who the fuck is this person?The performance Taylor is putting on is worthy of a fucking Oscar, but it makes me uncomfortable for reasons I can’t put my finger on.

The manager soaks it up, though. “We would make it for you even if we didn’t.”

And with that, he takes his leave.

“What was that all about?” I ask as she gestures to the table.

She dodges the question, or maybe she doesn’t understand I’m talking about her personality transplant. “I’m not sure. My mother used to come here to scheme with shady characters. If she doesn’t do that anymore, that’s probably a good thing.” She picks up her napkin, and then sets it down again. “Actually, I need to pee first.”

“Be my guest.”

She rolls her eyes. “Let me guess, you want to come with me?”

I give her a you-guessed-it-in-one smile and point to the door. “After you.”

She leads the way back downstairs and into a back hallway where men’s and women’s washrooms are next to each other. I lean back against the wall. “I’ll wait here.”

“How very reasonable,” she says, giving me a bright smile. “Won’t be long.”

I check my messages while she’s in there. Nothing from Singh and McBride, but I don’t expect to hear from them today, not if they’ve caught another murder.

Murder trumps car bombs.

There is an update from the captain. Forensics has handed over the bomb components to the FBI. Good.

I turn my phone off and look up. No sign of Taylor.

Checking my watch, I wonder just how long I should give her before I can justify knocking on the door.

I hear water running then it stops.

How long does it take to dry your hands?

I give her another thirty seconds then I push the door open.

There’s a woman at the sink applying lipstick, but it’s not Taylor. The stranger gasps as I stride in. Flashing my badge at her gets her to shut up.

“Taylor?” I call out.

“There’s nobody else in here,” the woman says. “Another woman left a minute ago, though.” She points to the far end of the bank of sinks.

There’s another exit.

Motherfucker.

A minute ago. I take off at top speed, pushing through the door. I’m in another hallway running down the length of the building.

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