LITMIR.BIZ

      Chapter 4

      “Amber has never been that drunk in her entire life,” Laney said firmly. “Pepper was her pet for eighteen years, from childhood, and she adored her. She cried for months when she died.”

      It wasn’t much to go on. But even Teague had to admit that three such mistakes in a text message fifty characters long was a bit much. Even drunk on her ass, would Amber have forgotten Pepper was a cat not a dog, a she not a he, and that she had died a decade ago?

      Teague glanced down at Cutter, still ensconced on the floor with his head on Laney’s foot, as if to hold her there until the story was out. He tried to imagine, even drunk, ever forgetting about the dog.

      Nope. Impossible. And he’s not even my dog.

      “Are there more?” he asked.

      She nodded. “None as obviously wrong as that one, but some. Read through them. I cleared out all the non-Amber ones.”

      He wondered for a moment if there had been some from a boyfriend. But she had said she hadn’t been attracted to this Edward, implying if she had been, perhaps she might not have said no. So there couldn’t be a boyfriend. Unless she was the juggling type. He didn’t think so. If nothing else, he suspected she didn’t have time.

      And none of that was in the slightest bit relevant, he reminded himself.

      He focused on the series of texts. Most seemed innocuous to him, something about being late for the office and catching up later, one about wanting to buy a new car, and a final one about jetting off to Canada. Nothing jumped out at him, but then nothing would have about the first one, either.

      He didn’t have to ask. The moment he looked up, Laney ran through a list. “Except for days when she meets with clients, Amber works from home. She bought a new car late last year, and the process exhausted her so much she plans on keeping it at least ten years. And she absolutely hates to fly. Canada’s way too close to get her on an airplane.”

      “You told the police all this?”

      “Yes.” She let out a compressed breath. “Their answer was people newly in love do things they might not otherwise. And I can’t argue with that. Especially Amber. She’s always...impulsive, especially with men. More than me, anyway.”

      Teague filed that self-observation from Laney away in the “might be good to remember” slot in his mind. Even as he did it, he silently chastised himself; he needed to be paying attention, not...whatever he was doing.

      She lowered her gaze to the painted surface of the small, round table. There was something scratched into the surface, something Teague couldn’t read upside down because of the angular shape and unevenness of the letters. A name, perhaps. Carved by somebody as infatuated as Laney said Amber got?

      “It’s my fault,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “I was even glad when he seemed even more interested in Amber than he had been in me, after I’d said no all those times.”

      “Laney—”

      She picked at the scratched name with a thumbnail. “I told her to go. That he seemed like a nice guy.”

      “Did you lie? Did you really think he was a bad guy?”

      Her head snapped up. “No! I would never—”

      She cut herself off, giving a short, abrupt shake of her head.

      “I brought them together. She never would have met him if not for me. I still feel responsible. Maybe that doesn’t make sense, but...”

      Teague stared at her for a long, silent moment, fighting down the memories that battered at him. “I get it. Believe me, I get it.”

      When he refocused, Laney was staring at him. “You do, don’t you.” The way she said it wasn’t a question. “You lost somebody, didn’t you?”

      “My sister. Years ago.” And yesterday. “But Amber is now. Let’s stay there.”

      For a moment he thought she might persist. And he wasn’t about to talk about Terri. He’d talked to no one about her in a very long time, except Quinn, and then only because he’d known he had to be thoroughly honest during the long vetting process for going to work at Foxworth.

      As if Teague just thinking the name Foxworth had roused him, Cutter got up. He turned from Laney to look up at him. When he was certain he had Teague’s attention, he walked toward where his car was parked. After a few steps he stopped and looked back over his shoulder at both of them.

      Teague sighed.

      “I guess he’s finally bored and ready to go,” Laney said. She stood up. “Thanks for listening to my...conspiracy theory.”

      Teague slowly rose as well, but said nothing. He had a theory of his own about Cutter’s sudden movement. A year ago he would have laughed at the idea, but after seeing the dog in action for months now, he knew better.

      “Maybe I’ll see you again, if he keeps getting into messes,” she said with a creditable attempt at cheerfulness.

      Cutter yipped. Short, sharp and to the point. Laney smiled. “Now he’s impatient. You’d better go.”

      “I’ll

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