“What’s wrong?” Gregg asked.
“I haven’t heard anything from Detective Dean. I hope that means she’s still putting everything together so she has a good case against Knightly and Lehmann.”
“Do you want me to call and ask?”
“No. I’m sure she’ll let me know. After all, she, or the prosecutor I guess, will need me as a witness when their cases go to trial.”
“Definitely.” Gregg moved over to put his arm around Spence. “Will you be able to handle that?”
Spence shot him a look of disgust. “I’m not a kid, Gregg. Of course I will. Yeah, I know reliving it all won’t be the easiest thing I’ve ever done, but…” He shrugged.
“I know you’re not a kid, damn it.”
“Then stop worrying about me like I am.”
Gregg nodded, moving away again.
Spence felt a rush of guilt. “I didn’t mean that. I like that you’re concerned.” He reached for Gregg’s hand, giving it a tug. “I’m braindead from writing, sort of tired because someone—” he squeezed Gregg’s hand, “—kept me up half the night.”