Page 33 of Run While You Can

“Unfortunately, we need to move,” she said. “If we’re going to take this to the police and give them an update, we have just enough time to get to the station before we have to head south for our event we have later today.”

Pam straightened. “Should I go with you to the police? I have a meeting at work, but I can see if I can skip it.”

Andi considered it for half a second. “No, let us take this first step. Sometimes it helps if the information comes from people they haven’t already dismissed.”

Pam nodded, relief and resignation warring across her face. “I probably shouldn’t miss this meeting anyway. The last thing I need is to lose my job.”

“I understand,” Andi said.

Pam pulled out her phone. “I’ll send you Emily’s contact information. She’s been extremely anxious with everything, but she might talk to you.”

A notification chimed in Andi’s pocket a moment later, and she glanced at the screen.

“Got it,” Andi said. “Thank you.”

Pam walked them to the door, watching silently as they stepped into the hallway. She lingered there, framed by Gina’s orderly apartment.

Andi didn’t trust herself to say anything else, so she nodded her goodbye instead.

Outside, the mist had thickened into a fine, steady drizzle. Duke unlocked the SUV, and Andi climbed into the passenger seat, shutting the door with a decisive click.

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

Then Duke pulled away from the curb, tires whispering over damp pavement.

“That window scratch,” Duke started. “It tells us two important things. One, that someone accessed her apartment without forcing entry. And two, that whoever did it was careful.”

Andi stared ahead at the road unfolding before them. “Which means Pam was right. The police missed something.”

Her phone buzzed again—another message from Rupert reminding her, cheerfully, that punctuality was essential and would help them maintain a good reputation.

She silenced it without responding.

She glanced at Duke again. “So, we tell the police Gina’s apartment shows signs of a quiet entry. We connect it to the break-in, the phone call, the van Colin mentioned.”

“And we see who starts sweating.”

Andi let out a slow breath.

They headed toward the police station now, San Francisco’s streets opening ahead of them, the gray sky pressing low.

They were running on too little sleep and borrowed time.

But for the first time since Pam had approached her at the signing table, Andi felt something solid beneath the fear.

Not answers.

But traction.

And sometimes, in cases like this, that was enough to start things moving.

CHAPTER

THIRTEEN

Duke kepthis eyes on the road as they headed toward the police station, windshield wipers ticking a steady rhythm against the mist. The morning chill clung to the glass, the damp kind that worked its way through layers and refused to let go.

Traffic thickened as the city woke—buses sighing at stops, delivery vans blocking lanes, cars jockeying for position on streets that pitched and dropped without warning. A cable car bell clanged somewhere ahead, the sound cutting through the fog as it crested a hill, and Duke eased off the accelerator, anticipating the stop before he could see it.