“Want another coffee?” “Yes, please.” I glanced at the clock, again, for the hundredth time. 3:30, thank God. My shift at the Widow’s Walk ended at four. We’d gone to bed last night at around six in the morning, after talking briefly to the police and having—as Andy had called it—a dawn-cap. My Sunday brunch shift, which was normally quite pleasant, had never been so wretched. “Hey, Miranda, you can take that coffee to-go if you want.” Andy paused mid-stride as he marched through the kitchen. “Really?” “Yeah, go on.” He smiled at me. “It was a rough night. And Erin will be here in a minute.” “You never let me leave early.” Kaye stuck her tongue out at him. “I like Miranda better than you,” he teased, with a wink that made Kaye blush. I rolled my eyes. I couldn’t stay mad at the two of them, even though they hadn’t stood up for Owen.
