“My parents’ lawyer.” She shut her eyes briefly, then opened them again. “Phillip Clarke handled their legal affairs and mine. Actually, he met his wife at my parents’ wedding. She was my mom’s maid of honor. He was a bit older than her, but it didn’t matter because it was love at first sight. I’ve known the two of them my whole life. They were always coming over for dinner with their two boys. They were present for any big celebration, or party. A constant. But—” She broke off. Glanced down at her hands. “Guess you never really know someone, do you?” Then Sarah shrugged, as if throwing off whatever thought was weighing her down, picked up a tortilla chip and poked it in the salsa. “But I should talk, right?” Sarah looked at him and smiled wryly. “Pretty much everything I told you up until now was a lie.”

“What?” Mick said, raising his eyebrows and clutching a hand to his heart. “You mean you can’t type a hundred words a minute? You bitch!”

She laughed, which was what he’d been hoping for. “No, that, actually, I can do, but everything else? Total bullshit.” He laughed along with her even though his mouth had a slightly metallic taste that made him reach for his mug of coffee and take another slug. This was what he wanted. To keep her loose and talking so he could unravel the mystery, discover what was hiding in the very deep waters of her psyche. Once he knew the whole story, perhaps it would help dissipate this infatuation he had with her. “And my car’s not in the shop. I had to ditch it at the supermarket.” The words were tumbling out of her now. “A cop had spotted my car and staked it out. That’s when I realized a BOLO must have been issued.” She gestured toward her face. “That’s why I changed my hair again, took off my glasses—which are fake, by the way—there’s nothing wrong with my eyes.” The fingers of her right hand drummed lightly on the table. Mick was reeling from this newest nugget of information. So what does she really look like? And cops? What the fuck? And on top of those thoughts, he also found himself wondering once again if she’d taken piano lessons as a girl, which was really messed up because that thought had absolutely no bearing on the seriousness of the situation. “I figure,” she continued, blithely unaware of the chaos her revelations were wreaking. “If the police have my car license plates, they’ve got to have my physical description as well. That’s why I hit the floor of your car earlier.”

“And a BOLO is?” Mick kept his face expressionless, not letting on that his stomach was in knots. He carefully dunked a chip in the salsa.

Sarah made a face. “A police term. Be on the Lookout.”