Page 56 of Tango
Work. I barely even remember what it felt like to wake up in the morning, drink coffee in peace, and head into work. The routine feels as though it was a lifetime ago.
I take a sip of coffee.
“So what’s the plan after she arrives? Are we going to follow her into her apartment and demand answers?”
“We don’t have to follow her since we know what the apartment number is,” Tucker retorts.
I roll my eyes. “Obviously.”
“We’re going to see if we can persuade her to come forward,” Dylan tells me. “If we can do that, we have a witness. One thread that will lead to everything unraveling.”
“But if Web Safe paid her to keep quiet—” I take another drink of coffee. “She’s not going to give them up easily.”
“We’ll figure it out,” Tucker replies. “Hopefully, she won’t take too much convincing.”
A white sedan pulls up into the spot labeled with her apartment number, and Kara climbs out, wearing a pencil skirt and a gray blazer. Kara. Just seeing her makes my blood boil. I know she hates me, but Ramiro was always kind to her. How could she do that to him? How could she protect the real killer?
“That’s her,” I tell them.
“I don’t suppose I can convince you to stay in the truck, can I?” Tucker asks. “You are wanted for murder.”
Dylan snorts and climbs out.
“Not a chance.” I shove the door open before he can put the child locks on me—because I don’t doubt for a second that he would—and climb onto the sidewalk. The air is warm, the sun beginning to sink, as we make our way up to the front door of her apartment building.
“Stay out of sight,” Tucker tells me as he reaches out and presses a button beside her name on the panel next to the main entrance.
I nod and step out of view of the camera.
“Yes?” Kara’s voice fills my ears. “Oh, hi, what can I do for you?” Her tone switches to flirtatious, and I have to clench my hands into fists.
Back off, I want to warn her. Which, of course, makes no sense. Tucker’s not mine. Not in any way, shape, or form. If he decides he wants to date a woman who frames people for murder, well—that’s on him.
And it’s that final thought that has me realizing just how ridiculous I’m being.
Get out of my head, intrusive thoughts.
“Hi, Miss Beverly. My name is Tucker Hunt, and I was hoping I could ask you a few questions. I’m trying to find information on a woman who used to work with you. Alice Sterling? I’m investigating her involvement in a murder.”
“Alice. Yes, of course. I’ll buzz you right in.”
“Great, thanks.” I can hear the smile in his voice, and jealousy churns in my gut.
What is happening to me?
A buzzer goes off. “Come on,” Tucker says.
I step out and notice how he’s blocking the camera with his body, just in case she can still see. We move into the building, and I climb onto the elevator first, keeping my head tilted down so the baseball cap I’m wearing shields my eyes.
With my hair tucked beneath it, and baggy clothes on my frame, it’ll be harder to identify me—but not impossible.
A few seconds tick by, and the three of us stand in silence until the elevator reaches the top floor. Dylan’s eyes are closed, his hands clenched into fists. There’s a bead of sweat on his temple.
Tucker looks just as nervous, though his gaze is trained on his twin.
I watch the exchange, Tucker’s words from a few days ago running through my mind. I’d commented on how different he and Dylan are, and he’d said they weren’t always that way. So, what happened? Was it the stint Dylan did as a POW that fundamentally changed him? Or something else?
The elevator doors open on the seventh floor, and Tucker climbs off first. Dylan holds the doors open and waits for Tucker to signal us forward. Then, we make our way down the hall before stopping just outside her door.
