Page 65 of Final Approach

His hopes rose. “Okay, great. I need to run by the bank, then we can get this done. Lainie, text me anything you need me to pick up for the next couple of days.”

“I’ll do that,” she said.

Andrew looked at Kristine. “I know you just got here, but you ready?”

She stood. “Ready when you are.”

FOURTEEN

Kristine hadn’t thought going shopping with a guy could be so fun. But they hit two stores in downtown Lake City and a café for a to-go coffee, then headed to his parents’ bookstore. Pages & Prose was a quaint store that held the delicious and unique smell of books. She stepped over the threshold and breathed deep. “This place is amazing,” she said.

He smiled. “And they’ll make a bundle when they sell it.”

“They’re going to sell?”

“When they’re ready to move on. My parents are nomads at heart. Come on, I’ll give you the tour.”

It didn’t take long. By the time he finished, a man in his early sixties whohadto be Andrew’s father came out of the back. He was tall with broad shoulders, had Andrew’s green eyes and the same small dimple in his left cheek. He looked strong, capable, and curious.

“Andrew,” the man said, “good to see you.” He turned his attention to Kristine. “I’m Christopher Ross. And who is this lovely lady?”

Kristine held out a hand. “I’m Kristine Duncan. So nice to meet you.”

“And you. So what brings you two by?”

“I need some stuff that I stored here,” Andrew said. “There wasan incident at the Airbnb where I was staying and I need to replace a few things.”

Shock held the man still for a moment. “Wait a minute. I think I saw that on the news. That was your Airbnb?”

“It was.”

Mr. Ross’s eyes narrowed. “Good grief, Son, what are you entangled in to have someone come after you like that?”

“It’s not me. It’s a friend. And we’re all fine, so that’s what matters, right?”

The man grunted. “If you say so. Your mother’s out with some church ladies who’ve pulled her into their friend group, so just go on up and get what you need. I’ll entertain Ms. Duncan.”

“Kristine, please,” she said.

“And I’m Christopher. My wife’s name is Mel.”

Andrew touched her shoulder. “I’ll be right back.”

“Take your time.”

He hurried through the shop, and she heard his footfalls going up a set of stairs.

“So, how did you and Andrew meet?” Christopher asked.

“Through mutual friends, but he’s working a case that we both have a vested interest in.”

“I see. Andrew’s a good man. I raised him right.”

“I can tell.”

“Good.” He grinned. “I like you.”

After a few minutes of small talk, Andrew’s return footsteps sounded. He appeared with a small suitcase a little larger than a carry-on. “I’ll bring this back when I’m done with it.”