Page 14 of Run While You Can

“Of course.” Mariella nodded quickly.

“I think we should meet with Pam tonight,” Andi continued. “I want y’all to meet her and ask whatever questions you might have.”

Simmy nodded. “Agreed.”

Duke folded his arms. “Where?”

“The hotel restaurant?” Mariella suggested.

“Sounds perfect,” Andi said. “Let’s text Pam and see if she can meet us there in an hour.”

Rupert reappeared in the doorway. “So, technically, we’re now forty-two minutes off schedule, and the sponsor is becoming . . . twitchy for lack of a better word. But if we hurry?—”

“Not right now.” Andi didn’t bother to turn around.

Rupert sighed. “You always have to besodifficult.”

Duke stepped forward, his shoulders bristled and his voice firm. “We’ll do the photo in a minute. Give us some space.”

Rupert made a face but finally said, “Very well. I’ll buy more time.”

He disappeared again, mumbling something under his breath as he left.

Andi drew in a long gulp of air and glanced at her team.

She tried to read their faces.

Was she the only one who wanted to fire Rupert and possibly even forget about this whole tour?

She couldn’t be sure.

So she’d take one for the team. She’d grin and bear it. The money coming in from this tour was going to some valuable causes. And they were doing good work—helping people and bringing light to cold cases that had been forgotten.

But meeting Pam was the only interesting thing to happen since this tour started.

CHAPTER

FOUR

The Silverstone Hotel’s restaurant,The Gilded Table, was hopping at nine o’clock on a Friday night—packed with a blend of tourists shaking off long days on their feet and locals lingering over drinks before heading back into the fog-draped streets. Through the tall windows, the glow of streetlights reflected off damp pavement, the distant hum of traffic and cable cars bleeding faintly into the room.

Soft jazz drifted from hidden speakers—something mellow and forgettable—but it couldn’t quite mask the faint scent of seared steak, buttered rolls, and burnt coffee lingering from the dinner rush. The lighting was low and warm, casting everything in amber shadows.

Andi and her colleagues had pushed two tables together in a back corner. In true Mariella fashion, she’d brought several Yukon Energy drinks, and they were now displayed on the table. She’d taken several snapshots, as per the endorsement obligations.

Pam arrived fifteen minutes late, breathless from hurrying. Her clothes were wrinkled, and strands of hair had escaped her ponytail. She carried a laptop bag slung over one shoulder.

“Thank you for meeting with me.” She slid into the seat across from Andi, her purse thumping softly against the table leg. “I know you must think I’m crazy, ambushing you at your event like that.”

“Not crazy,” Andi assured her. “Worried. There’s a difference.”

Pam’s attempted smile wobbled—one corner of her mouth lifting while the other trembled and collapsed. “The police don’t seem to think so.”

“Why don’t you order some food and then we’ll start?” Duke suggested. “Dinner is on us, so get whatever you want.”

She nodded and grabbed a menu. A few minutes later, the waitress came, and they all ordered. Fresh rolls had been placed at the center of the table to hold them over until their meals arrived.

Andi ignored the bread and leaned forward, letting her tone soften. “So, Pam, tell us about yourself. What do you do for a living? Where are you from? Are you married? I know those things might seem insignificant, but they’re not.”