Twelve hours? Thirteen?”
“More or less.”
“Well, if anyone else had called at that point, I doubt you’d have headed right on over just because she was scared.”
“I might have.”
“Travis...man, I could say a lot of things you already know. But only one of them really matters. That woman is our prime suspect.”
“She’s your prime suspect.”
“And who’s yours?”
“I’m not there yet.”
After a moment’s silence, Hank said, “Hey, buddy, you realize you’re not acting like yourself, don’t you? It’s as if you met Celeste Langley and something short-circuited in your brain.”
Ignoring that, he said, “Let’s go.”
Hank shook his head. “There’s no point in both of us wasting our time with Reese.”
He bit his tongue to keep from saying he didn’t consider it a waste of time.
“So why don’t I take care of some other stuff while you go talk to him. We can start in on the rest of the people on our Parker list later.”
“Yeah. Why not. Good idea.”
Travis turned and started away, unable to stop himself from thinking about what Hank had just said—and worrying that he was right.
Scientifically improbable as it might be, maybe meeting Celeste Langley really had short-circuited something in his brain.
What else would explain why he couldn’t stop thinking about her for more than two seconds straight?
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