Steve frowned. The whole tenor of this call felt . . . off. Maybe the press coverage was bringing out a bunch of nutcases—or people who were up to no good. The last thing he needed was more problems.

“Why don’t I give you my lawyer’s—”

“No.” The caller’s tone sharpened. “I’m not dealing with anyone but you. If you don’t want my information, fine.”

Steve leaned against the counter, taking his weight off his bum ankle, mind racing.

Was it possible this person did have a nugget that would help his defense? It wasn’t as if he was innocent—but the case was circumstantial except for the kid, and his lawyer ought to be able to undermine a nine-year-old’s credibility. However, it wouldn’t hurt to have a piece of tangible evidence that further chipped away at the prosecution’s claims.

“Fine. You can come by whenever—”

“No. We have to meet at a neutral place. No witnesses. I’ll give you directions.” The caller began spewing out instructions.

“Whoa! I have to write this down. Give me a minute to get a pen and paper.”

“Hurry. I’m not staying on the line long.”

Steve moved as fast as he could to the bill drawer and pulled out a blank envelope and a pen. “Ready.”

He jotted as the stranger talked—but red flags began popping up as the location sank in. “That’s way off the beaten path.”

“It’s safe.”

Steve doodled a bull’s-eye on the envelope. He was liking this setup less and less. “Why are you doing this?”

“Let’s just say I’m returning a favor. Be there tomorrow at one o’clock. Tell no one about our meeting, come alone, and don’t be late. I’m not waiting around. Stay in your car until I drop the envelope and drive off.”

The line went dead.

Slowly Steve replaced the handset in the cradle. Reread the directions he’d written down.

Was it safe to go alone to such an isolated spot?

Did this person actually have useful information, or was this a scam?

Had he ever done a favor for someone who would feel compelled to repay him? And if so, where had they gotten whatever information they had?

Stymied, he limped over to the table, sat down in front of his cooling pizza, and popped the tab on his beer.

Could this be a trap?

He took a long pull on his beer as he mulled that over.

Nah. He was being paranoid. Who would target him? He didn’t have any enemies.

Well . . . okay, a few. His ex-wife and ex-girlfriend weren’t his biggest fans, but they were far away. Candy was annoyed with him, but she’d find a new guy fast. And Meg didn’t have the guts to do him any physical harm.