At least that was what the email from Nate, delivered via her phone, told her. Full. How many voice mails could that be? Scratch that. She didn’t want to know. It would only stress her out. Spending the morning running around with Brodey, as easy as he was on the eyes, didn’t do her business a bit of good. He parked in a small lot adjacent to the three-story brick office building on the Far West Side of Chicago. “This is it. The lawyer is on the first floor. You coming in?” Returning calls should have been her priority. But how many times did a girl get to ride shotgun with a hot detective about to question someone? Forget the calls. “Yes. I’m going in. I’m curious. Do you have the sketch? I have extra copies in my briefcase.” “Grab one. Mine is crumpled from being in my pocket.” He grinned. “We don’t want to appear unprofessional after you’ve coiffed my hair.” Seriously, she could jump him.
