“Jesus Christ!” Diane screamed, stepping away from him with shaking hands.
“What the—” Mason tossed the broken bottle aside in the general direction of the trash can. He went to the nearby sink and splashed warm water on his face. The blood drained away in a scarlet whirlpool. “What’re you doing here? How’d you get in? I could have hurt you.”
“I’m sorry! You didn’t turn up at Barlow’s, so I thought I’d come and check if you were okay. The door was open.”
As she explained herself, Mason took it all in and realized it was Friday. Amidst all his worry about Evie, he’d forgotten to cancel the date. It was so obvious now. Diane was wearing a beautiful blue dress, which flowed down to her knees and exposed the upper part of her chest. Somehow, it looked more classy than slutty. She seemed to know she had beautiful skin, and showed it off while maintaining an element of modesty.
“Diane… I’m so sorry. Some things just happened. I was going to cancel and—”
“You were going to cancel?”
“It’s not like that. It’s good to see you. Great, even. I just…” Mason brought his palms to his eyes and rubbed, taking deep breaths. What he needed was a reset—a button that would allow him to reenter the room and stop for a calm conversation.
“Relax,” Diane said. “If you don’t want to date me, I totally understand.”
“No, I do. It’s just… it’s bad timing.”
Diane hung her head low before raising it and flashing him an artificial smile. “Okay. No problem.”
“I don’t think you understand. Here…” Mason gestured her into the clients’ seat and pulled his desk chair around to sit beside her. For the next twenty minutes, he explained as much as he could about the current case and Evie’s disappearance. It was probably a good choice to omit the details about Wendell.
“So, this Wendell guy goes missing—presumed dead—and you want to pressure his therapist?” Diane had a way of confirming details without sounding the slightest bit condescending.
“Exactly.”
“And that will lead you to Lady Luck?”
“I hope so.” Mason slumped back in his chair. “If I find her, chances are I’ll find Evie.”
Diane bit her lower lip, staring at the ground in contemplation. “I really hope you find her, Mason. She’s been a good friend to me over the years. If there’s anything I can do to help, just let me know.”
“I appreciate that.”
Silence settled around the room, but it wasn’t awkward. It was out of mutual upset.
“Listen,” Diane said, “Wendell’s therapist won’t be at the office at this time of night, right?”
“Right. And?”
“Why don’t you clear your head and go up there in the morning? I’m sitting here in this silly dress, so we might as well have a conversation.”
It was just the encouragement he’d needed to slow down for a while. Like when you’re thinking of calling in sick and you need that final nod to tell you it’s okay. “I don’t think I’d be good company.”
“Then,” Diane said as she looked around her, “do you have anything to drink? We can have a sip, and you can tell me some stories about Evie. When your eyes start to close, I’ll head out and lock the door behind me.”
Well, this is chivalrous. Mason wasn’t used to being the nurtured one—so far his life had forced him to be protective over women; first Evie, then Sandra, and most recently Amy. It felt wrong to be on the other side of the scale. Nice though. “All right.” Mason stood and went to the drinks cabinet. “What’re you having?”
Diane perked up. “What do you have?”
“Only strong drinks. It’s all I ever seem to need.”