“What did she have to say?” Even her voice was tight.

He moved toward the bar, wishing he had the right to wrap her up in his arms. “There’s definitely something wrong with the way they lost those pages of the book. And there’s something else. A young woman was shot in the parking lot behind your office building the same day you blew the whistle on Vallon. She fit your description.”

Lisa dropped the pen. “Is she alive?”

He was so glad he could tell her the truth to that question. “She made it. I read the police report. It’s up in my backpack if you want to read it. She said the man who shot her wore a mask and apologized as he walked away. We think he realized he shot the wrong woman and that’s why he didn’t finish her off. I should have told you earlier.”

She shook her head. “Nope. I’m happy to have had the afternoon without that knowledge.”

“It’s not all bad news.”

She shook her head. “It is for that young woman. I didn’t drive myself home that day. I was unsettled after I called into the tip line and then talked to the FBI. I called Laurel and she and Mitch picked me up. That was when I told them what I’d done and Mitch turned into super lawyer. We picked up my car the next day, but I didn’t go back to work. That poor woman.”

“It’s not your fault. You can’t feel guilty about that.” He moved behind the bar and grabbed a bottle of bourbon, pouring out two fingers between a couple of glasses. He passed her one.

She downed it in a shot. “Oh, I can feel guilty about a lot of things.”

“She’s okay,” he promised. “And there hasn’t been another incident until we came up against the Italian, and I’m starting to wonder if he really wanted to talk to you. Those numbers you memorized, they were account numbers, right?”

“I memorized all of them.”

He shook his head. “I don’t understand.”

She turned the laptop around his way. “Ask me.”

Was she saying what he thought she was saying? Was it even possible? “Okay, what was our take today at the bar?”

“We brought in two thousand five hundred and ninety dollars and twenty-three cents in credit card receipts and another seven hundred and thirty dollars and eighty-three cents in cash. Would you like me to split it up by type of credit card?”

So his girl was a machine when it came to numbers. “And you’ve been able to do this all your life?”