He followed her into a small office that resembled a living room. It had a dark blue sofa and an oversized armchair arranged around a coffee table blanketed with paperwork. An expensive-looking rug added a homey touch to the room.

“Make yourself comfortable,” she said before disappearing back into the hallway.

Brandon set the bag of food on the end table and looked around. A banker’s lamp glowed on a small desk in the corner. No family photos on the desk—just a starfish-shaped paperweight and a stack of files. The framed diplomas on the wall snagged Brandon’s attention. BA from University of Texas. JD from UT Law.

She stepped back into the room with a stack of napkins and a pair of water bottles.

“What’s ‘Order of the Coif’?” he asked.

“Honor society for law school.”

“Nice. Why isn’t that in your firm bio?”

She sank into the leather armchair and slipped off her flip-flops. “You’ve been checking up on me?”

He stepped over and hesitated a moment before taking a seat on the blue velvet sofa. It was even more comfortable than it looked, and Brandon felt strange being here. It felt like her private living room instead of an office.

She opened the bag and unpacked three small cartons.

“That water’s for you,” she said. “Sure you’re not hungry? There’s plenty of food.”

“I’m fine, thanks.” He grabbed the water and twisted the top off, watching her.

She was good at evading questions, but he had no intention of letting her off the hook.

“So, did you get anywhere?” He swigged his drink.

“What do you mean?” She unwrapped a plastic fork and stabbed at a carton of noodles.

“Did you figure out what was going on with Vanessa before she disappeared?”

“I made some progress.” She dabbed her lip with a napkin and put her fork down. “You know, you could have just asked me nicely to help you instead of getting all pissy.”

“Pissy?”

“Yes, and territorial.” She opened another carton and took out a fried spring roll. “I mean, has it occurred to you that I might be in a better position to get info from people than a couple of cops flashing badges?”

He watched her, annoyed again, and again, he didn’t know why. It had occurred to him that she might have better luck talking to people. That was why he was here. But he hadn’t expected her to hang it over him. Or to be so cagey with information.

“You sound like you think this is a game,” he said.

Her eyes bugged. “Are you kidding?”

“No.”

“I do not think this is a game. I’m the last one who would ever think that.”

He could tell he’d ticked her off. Good.