Chapter 18

“Let’s go, okay?”

We slid our arms into our overcoats, shrugged them over our shoulders, and left the building, heading for the parking lot.

A dusting of snow was covering the walkway. If this continued, there would be major difficulties for the DCPD later that night when the revelers tried driving home on it.

We walked in silence. I was comfortable with silence; it made people nervous, and nervous people were talkative people, often spilling information they’d had every intention of keeping to themselves.

But I liked the sound of Quinn’s voice, and I wanted to hear it now.

But what to talk about? Not work, not on Christmas Eve. Why start what should be the pleasantest evening of this year on a sour note?

Not the weather, because how banal was that?