Page 36 of Truth, Lies, and Second Dates
(That wasn’t all.)
No, that wasn’t all. Danielle had been waiting for something, had given off an air of palpable doom.
Oh, come on. What teenager isn’t convinced at one time or another that dire forces are aligned against them?
Right. Except… her friend had been dreading something that last day. And because neither she nor Danielle knew it was the last day together, they’d done what they always did: talked about everything and nothing. The killer might be somewhere in the midst of all their babble. Or if not him, then his motive.
Ava realized she was on her feet but had no memory of standing. She had to tell someone. No. No need to be coy: she had to tell Tom Baker. If nothing else, she owed him a follow-up.
Why? Because you had a dream about a conversation that never took place? And because he’s got shoulders for days and anarrow waist and a wonderful rumbly deep voice and kisses the way gourmets cook, you voice-kink floozy?
Well, yes.
So call and leave a message. If he thinks it’s worth a follow-up, he’ll reach out.
Not good enough. She’d promised to help and, dammit, may well have information that could be helpful, dammit, and she needed to find Tom and bring him up to speed, dammit! (Also, she had seventy-two hours to kill, no pun intended.)
Not because he was interesting, although he was. But because once he knew what she
(dreamed)
did, they might be able to get something done. This time she wouldn’t wonder if she could have done more because shehaddone more.
So she’d go see Tom. And would respect his efficiency by offering to buy him an early dinner in the process. Because he’d probably like a meeting/eating combo. Because of the efficiency!
But you don’t give a shit about eff—
Efficiency!
Twenty
THE LIST
Update Tom
Call union rep back
Order black dress
Lotion
Stay up late to avoid faux-prophetic dreams about Danielle
“Well, hiya!”
Ava blinked. Apparently when you came to the morgue during reasonable hours (as opposed to following the coroner like an easily distracted stalker having an ice-cream-truck flashback), you were greeted by a pleasant young woman who exuded positivity and favored pastels.
“What can I do for ya?” Argh, so much bright-eyed enthusiasm! And pink! She was wearing a pale pink silk T-shirt beneath a darker pink blazer, which should have made her look like an inverted tulip, but instead the contrast with her dark skin was striking in all the best ways. She was the picture of health, too, with blueish corneas, dark eyes,and a bright smile. She looked like she spent her spare time shooting commercials touting the benefits of drinking milk.
“Hi. My name’s Ava Capp. I’m hoping to see Dr. Baker.” Before the assistant could chirp the inevitable question, she added, “I don’t have an appointment. But it’ll only take a minute.”Unless I take him to an early supper, in which case it could take hours. Maybe days! Wait, what’s my endgame here?
“Actually, Doc Baker’s just finishing up some paperwork before heading out. Let me just check in and see—aaiiee!”
“Hello, Ava.”
The assistant, Darla Tran if the nameplate was accurate, had twisted around in her chair to glare up at Tom. “Swear to God, Doc, I’m putting a bell around your neck!”
“No, thank you. I would find that intensely irritating.”
