Page 15 of Filthy Liar

555-451-1765: Coffee before work? Usual place.

555-788-2119: See you there.

We meet at a busy cafe down the street.

Even though we live just a block apart from each other, it’s been hard to coordinate time for more than passing drinks. She’s swamped in a case she can’t talk about. Something has changed since she told me to come for a visit—and I ended up staying, surprising us both.

“You paged me on the bat signal devices,” she teases when we get a table. “It must be urgent.”

I start with the easier to talk about question. “Do you know Detective Kendra Browning?”

Caroline gives me a sidelong glance. “Yeah. How do you know her?”

“She emailed me last night. My writer account. She has questions about what I’ve written recently.” I hesitate. “I know her from before, too.”

Caro nods. She’s the only person in the world who knows these two parts of my life. “She was married to Tag Browning.”

“Yeah.”

“Do you think she knows Melinda Gray is…you?”

“No?” Then I take a shaky breath and dive into the deep end. “I saw Jason last night.”

Caroline’s eyes bug out. I know, any normal girlfriend would have led with that. “What?”

I don’t want to tell her about the moonlighting with the catering company. “At a party. I got out of there immediately, but he recognized me across the crowd.”

“Well, this town isn’t that big. Is it the end of the world?”

“No?” I sigh. “I’m not sure. I ran like hell. So at least on some level, I don’t want to deal with him.”

“Of course not. But if a story…was it a story that led you to cross paths?”

“Yeah.” And by giving up that catering cover story, now my way into the Canadian Embassy party is going to be that much harder.

“Then you’ll probably see him again. Next time, don’t run. Remember, you didn’t do anything wrong. I’m a lawyer. I’m advising you of your rights.”

I laugh. “My right to ghost a man?”

“It’s enshrined in our Constitution.”

“I’m not sure it is.”

“Which one of us went to law school?”

My retort dies on my tongue as her phone goes off.

She chews on her bottom lip. “Look, I don’t want to change the subject, but—” Her phone rings again, and she glances at the screen. “Damn it. I need to get to the office. But I wanted to ask you—”

We both laugh when her phone lights up a third time.

“Later,” I promise her. “Drinks this weekend.”

She nods, then hurriedly gathers her stuff back together. “Coffee to go, I guess. And Mel—for my two cents, I like and trust Kendra. If she wants to talk, reach out to her. Hear her out. You don’t need to say anything.”

“Good plan.”

I decide to take a chance on Detective Browning and send her an email before I finish my coffee. She replies within five minutes.

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