Chapter Thirty-Three“I
thought Brooke had been Lindsay’s teacher this past year because of Lindsay’s grief over her death. The way she cried when we met after the service at the cemetery, I assumed . . .”
I took a sip from my second cup of tea of the morning and set the cup on the table. I usually only drank one mug of tea a day, but I hadn’t slept well the night before, and I couldn’t rely on adrenaline and the parade’s excitement to maintain my energy. I needed multiple blasts of caffeine to be alert and ready to prove my theory.
“What’s the saying? A watched phone never makes whatever sound its owner has set for a ringtone?” Will took a generous bite from his cheese danish.
We sat at a bistro table outside the Belle Patti-sserie. The smaller of my two photography bags, which only he
