“She rolled up her window, nudged the guy behind the wheel, and they left me in the dust the minute the light changed. Of course, given that I was on my way to that mystery-dinner costume party we were both invited to, my Lord Voldemort outfit probably didn’t give me much credibility.”

Brent laughed out loud—and after the frustration of five fruitless days spent trying to untangle Eve’s situation, the brief moment of levity was refreshing.

“I remember that party—but not my costume.”

“It wasn’t memorable, like mine. I still can’t believe Rebecca gave me a second glance while I was dressed in that getup.”

“She did more than that. She married you.”

“Yeah.”

The deepening dusk shadowed Adam’s face, but Brent could hear the smile in his voice.

Must be sweet to have a beautiful, intelligent, articulate, caring, witty wife to go home to.

An image of Eve materialized in his mind.

As if Adam had sensed the direction of his thoughts, his friend returned to his original line of questioning. “So what’s your famous client like?”

Beautiful, intelligent, articulate, caring, witty.

But he wasn’t going to say any of that.

“She’s not a client. She’s a crime victim.”

Adam waved a hand. “Don’t throw technicalities at me. Just answer the question.”

He chose his words with care. “She’s putting up a brave front—but she’s scared.”

“Who wouldn’t be in her shoes? You have any leads?”

Brent looked over at him. “Are you asking that as an assistant prosecuting attorney or a friend?”

“I don’t have my lawyer hat on tonight.”

“In that case, leads are few and far between—but there was a new development this morning.”

Brent filled him in on the call—but Adam zeroed in on a different part of the story. “Why were you at the station?”

“I already told you. While I was downtown for a meeting, I stopped in to give her an update.”

“If you haven’t had many leads, how much of an update could there be?”

Leave it to a trial attorney to pull out the most pertinent—and incriminating—fact.

“Like I told you, she’s scared. I figured showing up in person would reassure her I’m giving her case a high priority.”

Silence except for the slap of their shoes against the pavement and the faint wail of a siren in the distance.

Brent braced for Adam’s follow-up.

Nothing came.

Finally he risked a sidelong glance at him.

Adam was grinning.

As if sensing his scrutiny, his friend met his gaze, making no attempt to hide his amusement.

“What’s so funny?” As the question spilled out, Brent stifled a groan. If he wanted to change the subject, giving Adam a chance to expound wasn’t his smartest tactical move.

“Your last comment.” Adam transferred his attention back to the path.