Garfield? Wy mouthed at him, and he made a come-along motion with his hand.

“I’ve got some errands to run,” she said obediently. “Why don’t we meet up at home and drive out after dinner?”

She was rewarded by an approving nod. “That sounds great, I’ll see you then.”

“Okay.” She took a step back, only to be snatched up in his arms and thoroughly kissed, just long enough for things to get interesting before he let her go again. Her hair had come loose from its braid and fallen into her eyes and she frowned at him while she tried to tuck it away again with shaking hands.

He noticed and grinned.

She stuck her nose in the air and left with as much flounce as she could muster on shaky knees. “Ms. Petroff,” she said as she passed the aide’s desk.

“Ms. Chouinard.”

In the fleeting glimpse Wy had of her, she saw that the aide’s professional mask had slipped a little.

She looked, Wy thought, afraid.

Liam didn’t close his door as that might have given the game away. He sat down at his desk and pulled open the central drawer where he’d put the file folder containing the square and his notes on the list of suspects. He stopped himself from picking it up at the last moment.

He couldn’t be sure but he thought it wasn’t in the same place he had left it. It was farther back in the drawer now, exposing the pencil tray.

He raised his head and looked in the direction of the front office. If he had had any doubts, they were gone now.

Wy was waiting at the door when he drove up and she hustled down the steps and into the truck. She was carrying a paper bag. “I made you a sandwich,” she said. “What did she do?”

He investigated the bag. Tuna with mayo, onions, and sweet pickles on white, his favorite.

She handed him a thermos. “Coffee.”

“I love you.”

“I know. Now give.”

“She stayed at her desk all afternoon,” he said around his first bite. He put the Silverado in gear and backed out of the drive one-handed and turned right on Heavenly Drive.

“You were there, too? What about your fake appointment?”

“I turned up the volume so she could hear it and hit the ringtone on my phone, which I pretended to answer and pretended to be disappointed that my fake meeting had been cancelled.” He looked at her. “‘F*ck and Run,’ Wy? Really?”

“What?” she said, making with the big eyes. “Who doesn’t love Liz Phair?”

“Maybe a little NSFW with the ringtones, is all I’m saying.”

“You should talk.” She made a strategic change of subject. “You don’t really think Ms. Petroff killed Erik Berglund, do you?”

He glanced at her before turning right on Alder. “Anybody can kill anybody, Wy. As you well know.”

“But—”

“Did you follow the link I sent you?”