Dead End. Lisa Phillips
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was so mad I needed a time-out, Gramma.”
Nina felt her lips twitch. Had she ever had this much presence or attitude? The girl was a spitfire, that was for sure. Nina was a little less worried about her now.
“So what’s going on?”
Wyatt stepped forward. “I’m Deputy Marshal Ames. You can call me Wyatt. This is Nina Holmes.”
“Not a marshal?”
Nina shook her head. “I was a CIA agent.”
The girl’s eyes flashed wide. “Seriously, a CIA agent?”
“I’m retired now, but yes.”
“Epic.”
Nina laughed. Wyatt’s low, manly chuckle sounded like a rumble. She glanced at Theresa and saw the resigned look on her face, then stepped forward. “Would it be okay if I talked to you?”
“About my mom?”
“How did you know that?”
The girl shrugged. “What else would it be?”
Nina waved in the direction of the couches. “Would you sit with us, Emily?”
The girl dumped her purse on the hall floor and strode over. “Sure. Whatever. Can I take a selfie with you and put it on Instagram? All my friends will be so mad I met a CIA agent.”
“No. Sorry.”
Emily shrugged. “Worth a try.” She slumped into the armchair opposite her grandmother, and Wyatt and Nina both took their seats again. “What do you want to know?”
Nina led in, asking the girl where she had been when her mom was killed—staying at her gramma’s that night—and how she’d come home from school to find her mom. Her dad’s face when they had told him had been the hardest part for Emily. Then Nina asked her the best thing she remembered about her mother, and the favorite thing they would do together.
After Emily relaxed, Nina got down to the serious stuff. “The police report includes a statement that you made about your mom’s boyfriend at the time. Can you tell me about him?”
Emily’s nose wrinkled, almost an exact copy of her grandmother’s face. “He was older, and he always wore a suit. At least the couple of times I saw him.”
Nina held her reaction in. If this girl could help her figure out who Mr. Thomas was, they would be one step closer to finding and catching him. “What did he look like?”
“His hair was gray, with only a sprinkle of black. He had a square white face. Blue eyes. Some lines on his face.” Emily glanced to the side, like she was remembering. “Veins stuck out on the back of his hands, and they weren’t rough like Dad’s. He wasn’t anything like Dad. He had money. We went to an expensive restaurant, and I had to wear a dress.” She made another face. “But he was nice. Not really friendly, just pleasant. Snooty.”
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