Blaire stood up and stretched. What next? Obviously, they couldn’t kill Meghan off. But they needed to infuse some fresh blood into the series. She wished she could talk to Daniel, have one of their brainstorming sessions, but he was on a plane to Chicago to spend Christmas with his parents. She had to do something to keep busy until she could return to New York, so she was drafting some pages of the next book on her own. Usually they wrote for five hours a day across from each other in their apartment. Daniel would take her chapters and do his magic editing, and they’d sound brilliant. She was the faster writer, ideas churning furiously, while he labored over every paragraph. They complemented each other perfectly and were so used to each other’s writing habits that they could tell just by the cadence of the keyboard whether or not it was okay to interrupt with a question. She sighed, wishing she could get back to her life with him, but she wasn’t leaving here until she’d done everything in her power to find out who had killed Lily.

The room phone rang, surprising Blaire. “Hello?”

“Ms. Barrington, it’s the front desk. There’s a gentleman here to see you, a Mr. Barton. Shall I send him up?”

“No,” Blaire said immediately. “I’ll come down.” There was no way she was going to be alone with Gordon.

When she reached the lobby, he was pacing and muttering quietly to himself. He looked up as Blaire approached. Her eyes were drawn to the bow tie du jour. Yellow with crabs on it. He looked angry.

He didn’t bother with hello. “Is there somewhere we can talk privately?”

“The restaurant.”

“I said privately.”

She gave him a cold look. “The restaurant’s as private as it’s going to get, Gordon. Take it or leave it.”

He said nothing while they waited for the hostess to seat them. As soon as she walked away, his eyes met Blaire’s.

“What did you do?”

She leaned back in her chair and gave him a cool look. “What are you talking about, Gordon?”

His lips were pressed together, and he thrust his chin forward. “You know damn well what I’m talking about. You snooped around my house. Do you know the police came and tore everything apart? They said they had reason to believe I was a stalker!”

The waitress began to walk over, but Blaire caught her eye and shook her head. She wisely backed away.

Blaire tried to decide which way to play it. “As Kate’s friend, I’m here to help her find Lily’s killer. So, yes, I did look around your house. Imagine my surprise when I found a folder full of pictures of Kate.” She leaned forward. “What kind of person follows someone around for months, taking pictures of them?”