“Do you know who she was with last night?”
“A man. She had a date. A sexy one, according to her texts. We were—” Emotion clogged her throat and she pressed her lips together, willing the tears back. “We were supposed to have a girls’ night tonight, to catch up, and she said something about how she’d have some dirty details of her own to share if the date went well.”
“And you don’t know who she was seeing?” Spencer pressed.
“No, I’m sorry. I didn’t even know she had a date until she mentioned it last night.” Which, now that she thought of it, was odd enough in and of itself. Gabby usually couldn’t wait to share everything when she met a guy.
Unless she thought it was someone Mina wouldn’t approve of. Someone Mina had already expressed a negative opinion of…
“Oh, gods.” Stomach rolling, Mina closed her eyes. “I might know who she was seeing.”
“Who?” Abbott pounced, a dog impatient to be let off his leash to chase down the neighborhood cat.
“His name is Adrian Banks. He’s Cyrus Banks’s brother. He’s in town, visiting, and Gabby and I ran into him and Cyrus at dinner the other night.”
“And did he show an interest in Ms. Lascher?” Abbott again, his voice still carrying that hint of impatience.
“Yes. And it was very mutual. But I told her he was bad news.” The words tumbled out before she even thought to stop them, but fuck it. If Cyrus wanted to be pissed at her, he could.
If his brother was the one responsible for Gabby’s death, she would do everything in her power to take the asshole down, whether Cyrus approved or not.
From his spot behind his partner, Abbot raised an eyebrow. “You think the assistant district attorney’s brother murdered your friend?”
The wordmurderhit her like a physical blow to the stomach, and she only barely managed to keep the breakfast Cyrus had forced on her that morning from making a reappearance. “I think he is someone worth looking in to.”
Everything in her wanted to screamYes, it’s him, arrest him!but she’d spent enough time around cops to know that getting hysterical was the fastest way to kill your credibility. Providing facts, pointing them in the right direction; that was how you got shit done in an investigation.
Still, the words burned in her chest as they continued to interrogate her. As much as she wanted to tell them they were wasting their time when she’d all but handed them their suspect on a silver platter, she managed to hold herself together until the door closed behind them.
“Motherfuckers!” The word burst from her with so much force it was physically painful. “I swear to god if they dick around on this, I’ll have their jobs. And I’ll keep their ball sacks on my desk as trophies.”
“If that happens, I’ll help you hunt them down.”
Tracy’s calm agreement did little to soothe the fury boiling in Mina’s veins, but she appreciated the sentiment all the same. “I need to get back to work.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah. I’ll feel better if I can do something instead of just sitting here waiting for them to find the asshole who did this.”
Tracy squinted at her before acquiescing with a sigh. “All right. But I reserve the right to kick your ass out of here if I think it’s needed.”
“Fair enough.”
Yanking open the office door, she stalked down the hall to her original destination. There would be time enough for tears and grief later. For now, she was going to bury herself so deep in her work, the pain would never be able to reach her.
ChapterTwenty
Being back in his office after nearly a week off felt like coming home to find someone had moved all his furniture around in his absence. Familiar, but just not quiteright.
Perhaps it was the sideways glances and whispers in the hall which had driven him to all but lock himself away in his office, something he rarely did even when he was deep in a case that required all of his attention. It was moments like this he wished he could have kept the whole “new Guild master” thing a secret. Why couldn’t his sign be more like Scorpio, content to do their work in the shadows?
It would have kept Adrian out of his life as well, which would have been an added bonus.
Unfortunately for him, there was no putting that particular genie back in the bottle, so he kept his head down and focused on his work until the buzzing of his cell phone jolted him out of the depositions he was studying.
Frowning at the unfamiliar number on the screen, he hit the button to answer the call, barking out a terse, “ADA Banks.”
“Mr. Banks, this is Tracy Oliver. I’m a producer down at Channel Eleven.”