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The coffee machine had quieted. She picked up her cup and took a tentative taste, her stomach rumbling. God, when was the last time she’d eaten? She flashed on the wine and cheese and crackers from the night before.
It seemed like a lifetime ago.
Tate was still talking. “You got it. Confirm those who have moved. . . what?” A lengthy space where Tate listened, then grabbed a pen from a nearby cup used as a holder for writing implements and scribbled a note to himself on the already full first page of a legal pad. “Yeah, got it.” Nodding, Tate ripped the note from the pad, took a quick picture of it and stuffed the jagged yellow strip into a pocket. “Okay. Yeah. Keep me posted.”
He hung up and twirled his chair around to face her. “Better?”
“Marginally.”
“How’s the pain?”
“Manageable.”
He said, “I have ibuprofen.”
“I’m okay. Really.”
Tell him you’d like a beer or a glass of wine.
“Hungry?” As if he’d read her earlier thoughts.
“Is it that obvious?”
He grinned. “Maybe. Anyway, I’m starved. So let’s do it!”
“Well, yeah, I could eat, but more importantly, I need to get a phone, at least a temporary one, one of those burners, I guess, until I get mine back from the police. And then there’s the whole rental car thing.”
“Through the insurance company.”
She’d already thought of that. “Eventually, but I need wheels ASAP.”
“You’ve got ID? You’ll need it.”
She groaned. “Again—”
“With the police?”
“Right.”
“Okay.” He frowned. “Well, first things first. I’ve already called for delivery. From a mom-and-pop deli just up the street.”
“Great.”
“And we can stop at a store to pick up a phone, but I’m pretty sure you’ll need ID.”
“Shit.”
He stood. “The police should release your cell back to you but like it or not, you’re gonna have to talk to the cops sooner or later and get your stuff back. Driver’s license? Keys?”
“I vote for later.” She buried her nose in her cup and took a long swallow. She didn’t want to think about being grilled by the police, having to answer question upon question about Merritt. About the past. About anything.
“If you want your belongings and to start dealing with getting a new car, that’s the fastest way possible.”
“I know, I know.” She’d already told herself the same as she’d washed her hair in the shower. “I just need a little time.”
“Emphasis on ‘little,’” he said as a buzzer sounded, and he hurried down the stairs.
The second he’d disappeared she made her way over to his computer to take a peek. She tapped a key so that the display appeared—a screen saver requiring a password. Of course. As for the scribbles on his legal pad, the only words that leapt out at her were names: