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relying on since he’d taken the construction job and moved them to St. Louis was getting old. He needed to do better, even if he was beat at the end of a full day in the unaccustomed heat.
    “I just thought we deserved a treat.” He cut the meat and put several slices on Todd’s plate while the boy helped himself to a generous serving of fries. “And how does a DQ sundae sound for dessert?”
    “Yeah! I love those almost as much as poppysicles.”
    Greg froze for a split second as he reached for an ear of corn, reliving again that stomach-dropping, this-is-impossible moment on the escalator at the mall.
    Time for diversionary tactics, before his son remembered the incident too.
    But as he picked up his corn and prepared to switch the topic to baseball, Todd spoke first. “Dad, you remember that lady I asked you about at the mall the other day?”
    Too late.
    “Yeah.”
    “Are you sure we don’t know her?”
    It was the same question he’d asked a dozen times in the past seventy-two hours. And Greg gave the same answer. “We’re new in town, champ. We don’t know that many people here yet.”
    “But we might have met her somewhere else, right?”
    “The only other place we’ve been is Montana, and we didn’t see all that many people there.” He chewed a bite of meat, hoping it didn’t stick in his craw when he tried to swallow. “Besides, I didn’t get a very good look at her.”
    “I did. She had pretty hair, the same color as mine. And she looked right at me, like she knew who I was. I keep thinking I’ve seen her before.” He screwed up his face and twirled a fry in the ketchup he’d squirted on his plate. “Maybe if I think real hard, I’ll remember where.”
    Greg’s stomach kinked. That was the last thing he wanted his son to do.
    Still . . . how much could Todd possibly call up from memory? According to his research, kids didn’t retain much from such a young age. But could an incident like the one on Friday trigger flashbacks of some sort?
    Something to search out on the Net later tonight, after his son was asleep.
    In the meantime, he needed to shift this conversation into more neutral territory.
    “After we get our sundaes tonight, I thought we might watch the Cardinals game on TV.”
    “Yeah!” Todd chomped on the fry. “Who’s pitching?”
    They launched into a discussion about the team they’d adopted since moving to St. Louis, the incident on the escalator forgotten.
    For now.
    But Greg had a sinking feeling the respite would be short-lived.

    “So . . .” Dev followed Cal into Connor’s office, shamrock-bedecked mug in hand, and dropped into one of the two chairs across from the desk. “Since you avoided me yesterday until I had to cut out for that surveillance gig, you can tell us both about your hot new client at the same time.”
    Connor unlocked his desk drawer and pulled out a file, shooting his auburn-haired partner a disgruntled look as he tossed the keys onto the corner of his desk. “I haven’t even had a chance to get my coffee yet. And what’s with this hot stuff? You’re engaged.”
    “But not blind.” Eyes twinkling, Dev lifted his mug in a mock salute and took a sip.
    “I’ll get your coffee for you.” Nikki paused in the hall as she passed by the doorway, mug in hand. “I need some more hot water. As for you . . .” She pointed at Dev. “That’s what you’ll be in if I tell Laura what you just said.”
    “It was a joke, okay?” Dev sent her a peeved look, then went on the offense. “And how come you’re getting Connor’s coffee? The one time I asked you to refill my mug, I got an earful about political correctness.”
    “He didn’t ask. I offered. Big difference.” Nikki swung toward Connor. “Back in a minute with your caffeine fix.”
    Cal glanced at his watch. “Not that I want to be a wet blanket, but I’ve got a nine o’clock meeting, so maybe we could move this along?”
    “Right.” Leave it to the Phoenix founding