Val tried hard to not read into that response. Professional. This was a professional meeting with a colleague. He was joking. Of course, she could handle a second glass; the question was could she handle a second glass with Gavin. Val crossed her legs and casually put her elbow on the bar. Then placed the arm down, crossing both arms now in as serious a pose as she could. She needed to look serious. And concerned. And hopefully not tipsy and silly. Her second glass of wine arrived. As did Gavin’s first. At least the alcohol was helping ease the stiffness in her bad leg. Today was a good day for it overall, otherwise Val would have never been able to walk in her four-inch heels.

“So, what did you find out today from Gabrielle’s boss?” Val asked, focussing her thoughts as best she could.

“He was seeing Gabrielle romantically.” Gavin picked up the glass and swirled the contents. “And hiding it.”

Val raised her eyebrows, shocked by the first statement, not the second. “He was her boss. Not uncommon to hide it. Anything else between them?”

“Not that he’s admitting to.”

“Do you believe him?”

“The guy rubs me the wrong way.” Gavin put both elbows on the bar and leaned forward and sighed. “But I have nothing on him, other than this relationship.”

“Didn’t you pressure him to tell you more?”

“I let him know that I wasn’t going to be fooled by him. But no, I didn’t eviscerate him. I need him cooperative and talkative… and feeling somewhat comfortable. People make mistakes when their guard is down.”

“Sir, your table is ready.”

Val glanced at the hostess, who gave a whole new meaning to sexy black dress. This five-foot ten, twenty-year-old, model-like, red-haired creature held menus in her arms. “Are you ready to be seated?”

“Yes, I think we are?” Gavin posed it as a question to Val.

“I’m ready.” Val picked up her glass and stood. Yes, the wine had done wonders for her bad leg.

“Great, then please follow me,” the hostess said with a charming smile.

Once seated and the hostess gone, Val resumed the conversation. “Any pings on Gabrielle’s cell phone?”

“None. We think it’s turned off.”

“I thought a turned off phone could still be tracked.” Val sat forward, both arms on the table.

Gavin laughed and took a sip of his wine. “The National Security Agency, aka the NSA, can do that. Local police departments cannot. And the location of Gabrielle’s cell phone is not a case of national security, so the NSA probably will not help us out. What we can do is track its last location before it was turned off and that was at Gabrielle’s house on the day she disappeared. And it was right before she left her home at 7:30am. So, Gabrielle didn’t want to be tracked.”