Cord hit pause. Due to the dim lighting of the restaurant and the poor video quality, the picture was dark, but the woman sitting alone three tables away from the Kensingtons was most certainly Elizabeth Monroe.

‘Rewind ten seconds and hit play,’ Alyssa instructed, scooting to the edge of her seat in an effort to get a closer look.

A tall, lean man entered, his steps faltering when he spotted Gabriel and Lydia, but when Elizabeth waved one slim arm in the air, he strode over and kissed the cheek she offered before sliding into the seat across from her. Clasping one of her hands between both of his, he brought it to his lips.

‘Well, I’ll be damned,’ Alyssa said. ‘Unless Ms. Monroe has an identical twin somewhere, that is definitely her.’ Instantly, she recalled the strange look that had flitted across Elizabeth’s face yesterday when she’d told them about the message Gabriel had left for her. She turned to Cord. ‘When we interviewed Elizabeth, she didn’t mention being at the same restaurant at the same time. Why is that? And who is that man with her?’ There was something familiar about him, but she couldn’t pin her finger on what it was.

‘She hasn’t looked in the Kensingtons’ direction,’ said Cord, ‘so, it’s possible she didn’t see him.’

Her partner had a point, even if Alyssa found it difficult to believe.

Five, ten, then fifteen minutes passed, and aside from appetizers being brought out and drinks refreshed, nothing happened. If either party was aware of the other’s presence, they made no noticeable gestures to indicate such.

The three of them continued to watch the video in silence. It was not only beyond tedious such that Alyssa had to force her heavy eyes to remain open and vigilant, but it also succeeded in reminding her she was hungry. And the buttery garlic aroma of the kitchen wafting through the vents only made matters worse. On cue, her belly grumbled loudly. One palm moved to cover her abdomen while the other covered a yawn.

Suddenly Cord slapped his hand on the pause button. ‘Huh. Tell me who you see now.’

Another man whose profile wasn’t clearly visible due to the way he was turned to the side approached the maître d’, and after exchanging a few words, the maître d’ picked up the phone and spoke briefly into it. The way the man held himself while he waited didn’t set off alarms in Alyssa’s mind; it set off a series of gongs. Could it really be? ‘Is that—is that Mack Kensington?’

‘Sure looks like it to me,’ Cord said. ‘In fact, I’d bet a month’s salary that it’s him.’