A collection of market stalls had sprung up next to the site. Canopied tables, vendor pickups and even blankets spread out on the grass were stocked with merchandise. The wares ranged from sunhats and sandals to artwork and jewelry to T-shirts and handmade soaps. At least six of the sellers also carried incense. “People are burning sticks of jasmine and hyacinth everywhere we go.” Her smile teased the man at her side. “I suppose it is marginally possible that Weasel’s here.” The tease spread to her eyes. “Alone in the crowd.” “Laughing on the inside, Raven.” Aidan’s assessing gaze didn’t miss a beat, but she saw the corners of his mouth turn up. The question she’d started to ask in town came back to her as a couple forking up egg foo yong with chopsticks strolled past. “If not Weasel, Aidan, who do you think spent the night in the vacant apartment?” “Same person as you, I imagine.”
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