It was almost shocking, to think how much I’d loved Christine, once. Back then, there was nothing I wanted more than for all of us to be a family forever. Now, it felt like someone else’s history.

And I just wanted Christine out of my life.

Chapter 54

IT WAS JUST short of midnight when Agent Anjali Patel stepped out to the curb on E Street in front of the Hoover Building, craning her neck, searching for a cab. As soon as he saw her, Max Siegel pulled around the corner and lowered the passenger-side window.

“Someone call for a taxi?”

She gave him a nice view of cleavage as she bent down to see who it was. “Max? What are you doing here? It’s late.”

“Sorry about earlier,” he said. “Had to run out unexpectedly. I just came back for my car, but maybe I could give you a ride and you can fill me in.”

Her glance up the street said everything. Not a cab in sight, not much traffic at all.

Max Siegel’s coworkers seemed to prefer him at a distance, which was exactly according to plan. Distance afforded him the privacy he needed and could always be broached if and when he wanted it to be. Like right now.

“Come on,” he said. “I won’t bite. I won’t even talk about Cross behind his back. Promise.”

“Um… sure,” she said with a practiced smile, and got in.

Her perfume was lemony, he noticed. Or maybe it was her shampoo. Nice anyway. Feminine. She gave him an address in Shaw.

Then she proceeded to chatter on about the case, making sure to fill up any spaces that might have otherwise been left open to the awkwardness of small talk between them.

Siegel drove fast, goosing the yellow lights where he could. He hadn’t been with a woman since the real estate agent, and damned if he wasn’t getting a little hard just thinking about her.

When he turned onto her block, he mashed the gas pedal once more and then coasted to a stop in front of a dark storefront just past her yellow-brick townhome.

“Hey, that was it,” she said, looking back. “You missed my place.”

Chapter 55

KYLE LOOKED BACK, too. The block was still clear of any traffic or pedestrians.

“Oops. Sorry. My fault.”

“All right, well…” Her fingers were already on the door handle. “Thanks for the ride.”

“That’s it?” he said.

“Pardon? I don’t think I follow.”

“See, this is supposed to be the part where you offer to cook dinner for me,” he said.

Her face fell. She squinted at him in the dark, probably not ready to believe this was anything more than a weird coincidence. “I’m not much of a cook, Max.”