Even Lucy could feel Jennifer’s anger under her skin.

In the car, Jennifer nearly exploded. “The fucking liar!”

“Excuse me?”

“Maybe he was confused, maybe he remembered wrong, but there was something … and if I’m right, he flat out lied. Either when I first interviewed him or now.”

“Trust your gut,” Lucy said.

“Two months ago he told me that he was giving Randolph relationship advice. Like what twenty-nine-year-old professional woman could go to him for relationship advice? I didn’t think anything of it at the time, figuring he was embellishing something, making himself look good, but I should have known.”

“She corroborated, and then Grant confessed,” Lucy said. “You had no reason to go back again.”

“But it should have been a red flag.”

“Do you have time to sit on his house for a while?” Lucy asked.

“I’m not doing anything. You?”

“Nope.”

“You think he’s going to leave?”

“Fifty-fifty. Leave or make a call, but we don’t have a warrant for his phone records.” Yet.

Jennifer drove around the block and parked just out of sight from Clemson’s house but where they’d be able to see if he left his driveway.

Not ten minutes later, he left his house.

“You’re good, Kincaid,” Jennifer said with a tight expression. “Let’s nail him.”

“Let’s just see where he goes.”

Chapter Twenty-eight

Mitch Corta had disappeared.

Okay, Sean thought, maybe not actually disappeared, but Sean couldn’t find him anywhere. He wasn’t at work—his assistant said he left at noon, saying he was sick. Sean checked out his house, he wasn’t there. Sean considered breaking in but decided against it. Then Sean drove by all of Mitch Corta’s active listings, but neither he nor his car was there.

Where they hell had he gone?

As he drove back from Mitch’s house—for the second time—a familiar number called him.

“Patrick, it’s about time you called me back.”

“I’m sorry, Sean, it’s been crazy.”

“Lucy wants you here for Thanksgiving.”

“I know. I’m trying to make it work, but there are extenuating circumstances. I can’t—it’s hard to explain.”

“Tell me.”

Sean listened to Patrick. “Call Lucy and tell her what’s going on. She’ll understand.”

“No, she won’t. I know she doesn’t like Elle, and this is going to be one more thing that’s going to grate on her.”

“They just rub each other the wrong way,” Sean said. “You didn’t like me when I started dating Lucy.”

“Not exactly true.”

“Really.”

“It was different.”

Sean snorted. “Keep telling yourself that, buddy. Just listen to me: Tell Lucy.”

“Maybe. We’re still hoping to work it all out. But … I’m not coming without Elle. I can’t do that to her, even to make Lucy happy. I hope Lucy understands, someday.”

“I might have an idea.”

“What?”