Caitlin shifted her hips. “I’m not officially working on the story.”

“Just curious?”

“A student asked for advice.”

“Bet I can guess which.”

Greenwood pulled twenty dollars and a business card from his wallet, left them on the hood. “Let me say this. I’ll be glad to help any way I can, whether your story is set in the past or the present.”

Caitlin watched the detective walk away, then went back inside and asked the waitress for a to-go box, even though her appetite wouldn’t come back anytime soon. No way she was driving down to Tapp Road now. She retreated to her hotel room, smoked the last of Scott Canton’s pot, and passed out.

*   *   *

At seven PM, she found Mary near the back of a Chinese place with a slightly plump but good-looking man of the same age with his own full head of red hair.

He got up from the table. “The great Caitie.”

Caitlin put out her hand, but he pulled her near. No real surprise, Lubbers had found herself a hugger.

“Ease up, Aaron,” Mary said. “Caitlin’s not as touchy-feely as we are.”

Aaron Gaffney squeezed harder. “Never too late to start.”

“Honey, please.”

On his release, Caitlin took a chair. “Never apologize for your creepy, touchy-feely love.”

Aaron sat, nuzzled his wife. “I know we don’t have long, but tell me every horrible thing you know about Mary.”

Lubbers hit his arm. “I’ve told you everything I’ve ever done.”

Caitlin looked at her friend’s happy eyes and her friend’s husband’s happy eyes, and wondered if her own eyes had ever looked that happy. She knew the answer in the instant. Not since college. She found a smile.

“What have we got—a night? I might have to leave out Panama City.”

Mary laughed. “Don’t you dare. I’ve been told there’s a monument in a Florida bathroom devoted to me. Well, at least to my boobs.”

Caitlin started the tales and forgot all about the body in the field, the police chief’s son-in-law, and the missing student.

Chapter 8

CHAPTER

8

BY ELEVEN THIRTY, Aaron had them back at Caitlin’s hotel.

“This is stupid.” Mary threw her arms around Caitlin’s shoulders. “I haven’t seen you in twenty years. We should drink more.”

Aaron had avoided intoxication. “Babe, you know I’ve got golf tomorrow, right?”

“Boo,” she said. “You’re no fun, Gaffney.”

Caitlin surprised herself. “My room’s got two beds. Sleepover, Lubbers?”

They released Aaron, bought another bottle of wine, and stumbled back to Caitlin’s room.

Mary fiddled with a liquor store corkscrew. “What time’s your flight?”

“Noon.” Caitlin unwrapped a pair of plastic cups. “Figure I’ll leave by nine.”

“You’re not making that.”

“I don’t really want to.”

“Do you have to?”

“I have a signing this week.”

Mary poured them each a cup. “No, you don’t.”

“I don’t?”