She trailed a finger over the labels. WHITE, ROWAN J. Gretchen hefted the box off the shelf and toted it back to where Marconi stood. “Don’t give me that face.” “I’m not going to stop Gibbs when he tries to arrest you for this,” Marconi said, but she was already straining to get a look at what Gretchen had grabbed. “The only way he finds out is if you tell,” Gretchen said, her voice dripping with saccharine sweetness. “And you know better than that, don’t you, darling?” Marconi eyed her. “Why do I have the feeling you just slid a razor blade against my neck?” “Oh good, that’s what I intended,”
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