“One last question,” I asked softly.

Bradford raised reluctant eyes to me.

“Do you think Cindi Gamble left on her own?”

“Not for a second,” she said firmly. “I said so then, and I’ll say it now.”

Leaving our cards, Slidell and I headed out.

Back in the Taurus, I told him what I’d learned in his absence.

“Dame wanted us there about as much as a boil on her ass.”

“She seemed uncomfortable.”

“She knows more than she’s saying.”

“What reason could she have for withholding information?”

“The feebs probably fed her some bullshit about domestic terrorism and confidentiality and national security.”

“Now what?” I asked.

“Who was the lunch buddy?”

“Lynn Hobbs.”

“That name was in Eddie’s notes.”

“Think you can find her?”

“Oh, yeah.” Slidell slid knockoff Ray-Bans onto his nose. “I’ll find her.”

Chapter 9

SUNDAY, A MIRACLE OCCURRED. NO RAIN.

Sadly, I had no one with whom to share the fine weather. Katy was in the mountains. Ryan was in Ontario. Harry, my sister, was at home in Texas. My best friend, Anne Turnip, was absorbed in a home renovation project. Charlie Hunt was hunkered in at the Mecklenburg County Public Defender’s Office, preparing his closing argument for the trial of a woman accused of shooting her pimp.

How to label Charlie Hunt? My friend? Suitor? Wannabe squeeze? So far, that was as hot as things had gotten. My call, not his.

I celebrated the sunshine by running my long loop through Freedom Park and around all the Queens Roads. And Charlotte has a boatload. There’s even an intersection of queens and queens.

In the afternoon I weeded the garden, then took Birdie onto the lawn for a session with the FURminator, removing several pounds of fur. After the grooming, he made himself scarce.

In the evening I caught up on paperwork, then grilled a steak and ate it listening to Foghat and Devo full blast. Dove Bar for dessert.

I am an island. A rock. Whatever.

Ryan phoned around nine. I sensed from his tone that he preferred to keep the conversation light and away from the subject of Lily. His goal seemed to be educating me on NASCAR in Canada. Realizing his need for diversion, I mostly listened.

“Jacques Villeneuve is an officer of the National Order of Quebec and was inducted into Canada’s Walk of Fame.”

“Quite an honor for an athlete.”

“To date, no other Canadian has won the Indianapolis 500 or the F One Drivers’ title.”

“Impressive—”

“Jacques Villeneuve has had over a dozen career NASCAR starts. Five in the Nationwide Series and three in the Sprint Cup Series.”

“And the others?”

“Probably the Camping World Truck Series. I know he drove in the 2009 Canadian Tire Series. I was in the stands for that one.”

“What team is he with?”