“Hanna.”
Someone called out to me just as I stepped out of the police station. Detective Harry. That stalking detective.
“Excuse me? Hanna?”
He caught his breath. His face was arranged in that formal expression he always used with me.
“Yes, Hanna.”
I frowned. First, he called me Mrs. Harper, then Hanna, then back to Mrs. Harper, and now Hanna again.
What does he actually want?
“Ms. Harper. Call me Ms. Harper,” I said firmly.
“But we already agreed to use first names, didn’t we?”
I crossed my arms, giving him a sharp look that wasn’t entirely serious.
“Then what was that earlier in the room? What did you call me?”
He sighed slowly. “That… was just professional, Hanna. I was doing my job. You know that.”
I narrowed my eyes, as if weighing his answer.
“Weird man,” I muttered, fro
