When Morgan got home, there was a brief message on her answering machine from her mother. She was back in Georgia, back in the same hotel as before, meeting with the same couple she had met with several weeks ago. Bart had run down a few leads that, while they had answered some questions, weren’t useful in tracing the book. Now they were going to meet and brainstorm some ideas. Oh, and she was going to go back to an antique mall that she hadn’t had time to fully investigate on her first trip. Morgan shook her head. Driving four hundred miles to check out old bottles and dusty bread boxes was something Thea wouldn’t think twice about doing.
She poured a glass of wine while she studied the not particularly inspiring contents of her refrigerator. She had eaten salad for two nights in a row a
