“Would you like to have lunch on Monday?” Nora asked once we took our seats. A few rows up, the sheriff was shining her flashlight into an aisle. “Uh—” My heart clenched. This was going from bad to worse. Would the sheriff execute me on the spot if she overheard? “Or we could do later in the afternoon, say 2:15? Unless mornings are better.” Nora sounded a little flustered, or maybe that was me projecting my own fears.
