She fidgets in place, adjusting the hem of her dress as though she’ssuddenly conscious of how much leg she’s showing, despite there not beinganother living creature within three floors of us. “She’s, uh, well, youknow… She’s Elena. She’s… someone Dmitri used to know. Before. Beforeyou, I mean.”
I bite down my frustration. “Yeah, I got that, Bee. Was she his ex-girlfriend? A friend? Sister?”
Bee chews on her bottom lip and gives me an awkward shrug. “I’m sorry,Wren. It’s not my story to tell.” She gets up as suddenly as she arrived,picks her shoes off the floor, and damn near sprints towards the openarchway. “I’m glad you’re okay.”
Well. So much for that.
I don’t think “interrogator” is a job title in my future.
Grimacing,
